The Untitled Wound
by GleekShip
Summary: Kurt does everything he can do to survive the final moments of a shooting at McKinley. May contain TRIGGERS
1. Chapter 1

**The Untitled Wound**

**Author: **GleekShip

**Spoilers:** Set During Season 1, but no spoilers.

**Summary: **Kurt does everything he can do to survive the final moments of a shooting at McKinley.

**Pairings: **Kurt/?

**The Untitled Wound**

Up until the time that something bad happens, you don't think it can happen to you. It's the kind of thing you only hear on TV. It's something that you feel bad for, but are secretly thankful that it happened to them and not you. You're happy that this one time, your drama isn't as bad as theirs. That it isn't as severe as theirs. That it isn't as damaging as theirs. But this time isn't one of those times. Out of the billions of people, it happens to you. Out of the hundreds of thousands of schools, it happens to yours. Out of all of the people that have to die, the ones closest to you are taken. It's something that you don't think you'd be able to handle, but you do when your instinct and fight for survival push you to that ledge and give you the gentle push to jump right in and fight.

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Kurt lets his head rest against the wall for that split second, his chest heaving from panic and the memory of the lud bang still in his head from a few minutes ago. It keeps looping itself in his head. It doesn't help that every time he hears someone run for their survival, a bang echoes through the building and the running stops. That's all he's been hearing for the past two hours and the sounds are permanently edged into his brain. Silence is the other thing lodged in his brain. He has a gut feeling in every fiber of his being that both will be in his nightmares for the rest of his life if he were to survive, but that could also be the gun wound as well.

Kurt lets out a shaky breath as he looks down to the water fountain that's pressed into his body. He had decided to hide in the little cubicle that houses two water fountains as it was the only place to hide in the long corridor due to all of the doors being locked or already have been opened and were now full of the bloody deceased or the unconscious and wounded.

The shot in his stomach has his blood leading a small trail to the drain on the fountain, mixing his blood into wherever the water goes. His DNA is being spread through Lima. That's the thought at the front of his mind to help ignore the pain. He was tempted to just start running and get shot so it would end, but he's not brave enough for that. His current shot was because someone had decided to save his life.

Kurt bites his lip and lets his mind think. He doesn't think it's appropriate to just lie still and die after someone had saved him the first time. He doesn't want to die, but he didn't see it as fair. He was able to name every single body that he had passed thanks to the schools size and he had come up with a count of bodies that shouldn't even exist with death yet. These people that are shooting up the school have been utilizing their time for far too long.

The last gunshot he had heard a few minutes before had sounded distant, but a lot can happen in ten minutes. Ten minutes since he had hidden in the small alcove. Ten minutes since his blood had added a bitter mixture to the sewage of Lima. He wanted to wait to hear something else, but he can't bear the thought of hearing someone else get shot. Who would it be this time? A freshmen? Teacher? Perhaps one of the already dwindling numbers of his friend group? He can't possibly watch another friend go down . . . not like he did before.

Kurt lets out a shaky breath before reaching down to the hem of his shirt and giving it a slow tug. Even the ruffle of the fabrics from his layers of clothes seem to increase tenfold with touch and twentyfold with movement. He hesitates slightly when his fingers meet his sticky blood that's molded together with the fabric, but he pushes on. He slowly brings both layers over to create a firm fold along his waist. He rolls the fabric again and creates another fold. And another, and another. He stops when he has a firm padding of fabric over his gun wound. He reaches around his back to make sure that the fold worked back there as well with the exit wound. He gives it a light pat, risking the hiss from his own lips just so he can make sure he has something to help keep blood in.

With everything that he can think of in place, he slides out from between the wall and water fountain to step out into the hallway. His sudden dizziness comes half from his wound and the other half from the blood smears and bodies in the hallway. This wasn't a high school shooting anymore, it was a massacre. A massacre that would scar this part of Ohio for many years to come. Kurt takes one slow step forward, a relieved smile on his face appearing for that brief second. Maybe there is hope. Maybe the gunmen's final shots were to kill themselves. Maybe the police have already took the other side of the school and the gunmen within it, that is if they were over there. Of course it's wishful thinking, but that's what he needs at this point to keep that smile on his face.

Another step.

The pounding in his ears override the impossibly loud footsteps that he's making with each movement. His eyes are darting back and forth, his migraine not making the action any easier. His feet have become numb after his narrow escape and the gunshot wound. All of his blood seemed to be migrating towards the two unnatural holes in his body thanks to a certain bullet.

Kurt's eyes widen as he almost slips on a pool of blood. His arms fling out and he manages to grab onto the top of the lockers to prevent his fall. He's not one hundred percent sure, but he thinks he let out a yelp and that's the weird noise that now echos through the hallway. Kurt steadies his breath and body at the same time while refusing to look down at the body whose blood he had slipped on. He doesn't want to add another name to his permanent memory of people that he's seen dead. He sighs and tells himself to think of his happy place. To think** -**

Kurt smiles as he sits down at the piano, letting his fingers dance across the many white keys and the limited black ones. He feels so at home here in the auditorium. So many of his high school landmarks have happened here and his last high school one will happen here as well, his graduation.

He slowly adds pressure to one key before doing the same to another. A few more downward motions of his fingers and he's playing his normal song. The one that makes him happy. Kurt smiles at the thought of his comfort song, but his smile falters slightly. His ears twitch when he realizes that he's not playing his usual song. This one is much more slower, full of sorrow and melancholy. Oh the pain. Kurt can feel the ache that comes from playing this song, almost like he's playing a song from a thousand funerals that are being smashed into this moment.

_I open my eyes_

_I try to see but I'm blinded by the white light_

Kurt looks up at the voice, ignoring his uncontrolled fingers playing that song that he wouldn't want played. He sees Mercedes slowly walk to the middle of the stage, her eyes shut and her fingers interlaced in front of her. Kurt wants to get up and look at her, but he can't move and he can't stop playing. His bottom lip quivers when he notices a trail of liquid seeping out of her hair and onto her white diva shirt.

_I can't remember how_

_I can't remember why_

_I'm lying here tonight_

The next voice surprises him. He had barely heard Mike sing, but here he was, walking across the stage to stand by Mercedes, but seeming so far apart. The boy is much paler than usual. Some breeze hits the boy and Mike's shirt moves so Kurt can see a huge chunk of the shirt and Mike's body had been blasted away, lost. Kurt wants to say something, but someone else speaks up.

_And I can't stand the pain_

_And I can't make it go away_

_No I can't stand the pain_

Santana makes her way down the stage to take her spot next to Mercedes, singing her heart out.. The girls face is paved with blood, but it doesn't seem to disturb her. Through her strapless dress, Kurt can see the missing skin and deep hole within her skin right where her heart should be. Kurt can feel the tears leaking from his face, but he still can't say anything to comfort himself now.

_How could this happen to me_

All three people on the stage start singing in unison. Each voice brings certain element that makes the song sound great, but haunting at the same time.

_I made my mistakes_

_I've got no where to run_

The stage slowly becomes darker as the trio up front start to tremble.

_The night goes on_

_As I'm fading away_

_I'm sick of this life_

_I just wanna scream_

Kurt watches just like he did in real life. He watches as each of them recreate their deaths in his happy place. He first watches Mercedes get jerked back, her head first. A trail of blood follows the bullet hole that struck her in her head. Her body lands with a thud, a pool of blood surrounding her head and a trail of blood going up the stage that followed the bullet until it had burned off. Kurt realizes that he's watching them in the order that he had seen them die. He was with Mercedes at the time, along with most of the glee club, when the shot took them by surprise. They were all in shock until they hear another gunshot.

Kurt has no time to mourn or react from his shock as Mike goes to jump to the side, but then he is jerked back as well as the shot from the more powerful gun tears a hole into his stomach. The boy is quickly on the floor, sprawled out with his face still in a look of determination. He had quickly tried to protect Tina and that second shot that they all heard was another death shot that ended the life of Mike Chang.

Santana suddenly drops down and tries to get into a fetal position. She screams when her arm is jerked up, tears streaming down her face. A dark chuckle echoes through the room before Kurt watches Santana's chest and heart explode from the metal tip of a gun that had been pressed there. You would think that Santana would have fought back, but shock and the little girl inside of her had made her want her to cry. Kurt had learned that some tears that are left in your eyes when you die can still fall out and make your death look even worse.

Kurt is left alone with the silence and gun shots echoing throughout his mind. He's left alone, his fingers however keep playing the sombrous song, waiting to be finished. Kurt lets out a shaky breath before finishing the chorus.

_How could this happen to me_

His voice rings out, all alone. Kurt goes to try and stand up to pull away from the piano, but he spots the next person coming into the room. It's **-**

Kurt lets out a shaky breath as he reaches the first corner. He can feel his heart pounding between his ears, making his eardrums sound like they're on the verge of combusting. He uses one shaky hand to hold onto the cold concrete corner before he peers around it's chipped edge. More bodies are the first thing he notices. Blood too. For a better depiction, imagine a slaughterhouse. That's the close Kurt can come to describing the horrid corridor. Luckily for him though, it's all in the clear there, at least of shooters. Kurt lets out is umpteenth shaky breath before stepping into the hallway.

Sadly, he doesn't know how many crazed maniacs have roamed these halls recently, talking about the ones that brought the guns. To have caused this much damage, this much life loss . . . it had to be a group. Right? It's just insane that one person could just kill and kill. Yes it's insane for a group to do it, but that means that there's some influence or cult-like thing that's manipulating a group to do this. Plus it means, if Kurt's hopes were to be high, that one will get cold feet and attempt to help the case by getting help. Somehow.

Kurt eyes the bodies on the floor. He's still recognizing names, names of people that he'll never see moving around again. Names he'll never want to say again in fear. It doesn't help that this is the first time that he's made it to this side of the school since this thing had started. He had been hiding out in the hallways for the most part. He's afraid of the classrooms because of the damage within. It's too intense for him to want to enter them, let alone to hide until help comes. It seems that every 20 minutes or so the police and SWAT outside would use a bull horn to yell something at the attackers, but nothing else has been done. For hours now, he's been locked inside, bleeding to death for the last bit of it. The police aren't doing anything to get into the school. He doesn't even know if anyone has made it out to spread the tale of the event within.

Kurt is halfway down the hallway when he starts thinking of his eternal gratitude/hatred for someone. He had been pushed aside, he should be grateful, but he's not. He's still living in this hell and his body is slowly running out of blood to boot. But he was pushed, so he's at a mixture of feelings. The sad thing is, he only saw a glimpse of his savior before more bullets were fired again and he was pulled away by his only surviving friend. So there Kurt and his savior were, being drug in opposite directions by friends, but Kurt wanted to go back. He wanted to hug or hit his savior, but that would be for later, assuming he survives of course.

At this point, he's not sure if anyone will survive. The gunmen seem set and determined on destroying everyone inside the building. Sure he had seen a few stragglers running around after he lost his last friend, but they just keep running. Where to? Kurt has to chuckle softly. All of the doors leading out of the school seem to be guarded for the most part, which explains why Kurt was still walking around in circles for help. Help that's not likely to find him anytime soon.

Kurt is about halfway through this corridor when he stops. One sound. It's that one sound. Kurt starts hyperventilating as he hears the calm walking footsteps that mean death is just around the corner. Kurt leans against the wall and tries to **-**

Kurt is back, but it's no his happy place anymore. He's paralyzed as he watches Finn slowly walk onto the stage. His hand is looped in that of Becky Jackson's. Finn has a huge hole in the front of his chest while Becky's has the top part of her head blasted off. Kurt cringes at the memory. Finn slowly pulls Becky up to where Mercedes was standing, stepping all over her corpse in the process.

_Everybody's screaming_

_I try to make a sound but no one hears me_

Finn's voice is so broken that Kurt cringes and finally his fingering of the keys falters before correcting itself. Becky's voice is so soft that it shouldn't carry anywhere, but he still hears it and has to fight back tears. He remembers their death as well. Finn had made Becky hide behind him so he could talk down the gunman. The shot had went through Finn's chest and hit Becky in the head. Both of them went down together. If the shot didn't get Becky, then she would have either suffocated or died of a broken neck. The girl wouldn't have been strong enough to get Finn's body off of her and most likely no one would have stopped to save her life in sacrifice of their own.

_I'm slipping off the edge_

_I'm hanging by a thread_

_I wanna start this over again_

Kurt prepares himself for the next set of deaths that he had witnessed. This time it's Matt. Kurt never really knew the boy, but that doesn't mean he should with him are Jacob Ben Israel and Lauren Zizes. Those three were unlucky enough to be at the front of the lunch crowd when everything had started. Matt was walking silently ahead of everyone as they made their way back to the classrooms. Lauren had spent her lunch in the AV club room while Jacob was in the newspaper editing office. Both of them had stepped out and met their tragic and unnecessary fates. Matt is the one carrying the song as the other two stay mute. All three share a stream of bullet holes across their chests.

_So I try to hold onto a time when nothing mattered_

_And I can't explain what happened_

_And I can't erase the things that I've done_

_No I can't_

The next voice is one that he doesn't want to hear. It was the last close friend to him that he'd seen alive. Tina comes limping out on the stage, a trail of blood leading from the back of her calves. Kurt did try to stop when she was shot in the legs, but she started sobbing uncontrollably and used her last bit of strength to push Kurt forward. She didn't save him the first time, but she had given him more time to fight. His last look at her was watching her spit up blood as a round of bullets were fired into her back. Kurt can see the blood seeping out of Tina's body from either side.

_How could this happen to me_

The bigger group of people sing their parts together. Kurt finds himself cringing as he's able to distinguish each voice from the others.

_I made my mistakes_

_I've got no where to run_

_The night goes on_

_As I'm fading away_

Kurt really wishes that his fingers would stop playing, that the song would just stop. The world needs to stop.

_I'm sick of this life_

_I just wanna scream_

Kurt shuts his eyes and cringes as he watches the deaths be recreated again. Every jerk, every blood splat, every whimper of pain . . . he watches them all go down. Kurt can't help himself from finishing the chorus again.

_How could this happen to me_

Kurt chokes on a sob and** -**

Kurt moves as quickly and quietly as possible and lies on the ground. Even if he isn't dead, he knows he looks close enough to it. He shifts to the wall and tries to mimic one of the bodies that he'd seen earlier by curling up slightly. Many people he saw had tried getting into the fetal position for protection, but their bodies have uncurled somewhat after death. Kurt squeezes his eyes shut, but then lets them relax slightly.

Another step.

Kurt goes completely limp. He's been playing the part of the I'm-Better-Than-You façade for so long that playing one limp body should be the least of his problems when it comes to this impromptu exercise. Impromptu meaning necessary and exercise meaning do it now or you're gonna die. Very simple.

Another step.

More steps.

_Steps._ Kurt's tempted to open his eyes at the sounds. He hears multiple footsteps walking slowly around the hallway. He can hear each of them shuffling. The clanking of guns are louder than ever. This is it. Here is the brigade of gunmen going through the school to see their kill for the day. Kurt can't help the whimper that bubbles from his lips.

His heart stops.

His breathing stops.

He stops.

He**-**

Kurt watches this time as a stampede of dead people walk up onto the stage. Everyone that he had seen die: Quinn, Artie, Rachel, Brittany, a countless amount of teachers including Mr. Schue and Coach Sylvester. The stage is flooded and Kurt almost gags on the unholy stench that fills his nose. The deceased opens their mouths, but Kurt finds himself singing the end.

_I made my mistakes_

Kurt feels himself being lifted up from the piano. He tries to thrash about, but it's useless as the bodies start dropping. His happy place doesn't exist anymore.

_I've got no where to run_

It probably never will again.

_The night goes on_

_As I'm fading away_

Kurt closes his eyes so he doesn't have to witness the deaths again, but he still hears the thuds of the bodies dropping.

_I'm sick of this life_

His vision is suddenly bright, no more darkness.

_I just wanna scream_

Kurt wants to give up so much now, but he isn't ready to. If this won't be his happy place anymore, then he needs to find some place in reality. He's not going down without a fight.

_How could this hap**-**_

Kurt feels the hand on his shoulder as he's turned around and strikes his hand out. The guy in the suit recoils slightly.

"We got a live one."

"What?" Kurt's eyes dart around as he pushes himself back against the set of lockers.

In front of him are a large team of guys in black bulky suits with the words SWAT across them. A group of them had already continued down the hall, checking bodies at random. Kurt is brought back to the attention of the guy in front of him.

"It's alright kid. We got everything under control."

Kurt can't help the fact that he snorts. That's got to be the most ridiculous thing that he's heard all day. The guy doesn't look amused, but he does look down to see Kurt's rolled up shirt and the blood stained all around.

"Hang in there kid. We'll have someone in here soon to help you."

And with that, Kurt is left alone. That stampede of feet is echoing down another hallway, another death area. Kurt slowly looks around. Things seem to be brighter in this area now that he knows he's getting help. Unfortunately it's the SWAT's duty to clear the school and make sure it's safe before they take care of the survive occupants. Screw it.

Kurt presses a hand to his wound and takes in a deep breath. With his other hand, he turns over and props himself up on all threes. He stands back on his knees before slowly getting two his feet. He's not waiting for help to come to him. That will make him seem like a victim. He hasn't been a victim for a long time now and he's not going back.

Kurt stumbles forward. His breathing may be uneven, he may be bleeding a bit too much to be considered well, but he's fine in his eyes. He's survived. That's what this is about, right? Surviving the improbable events that could happen to anyone. No. It's about surviving life. Not that others couldn't survive, but that he was given a chance.

Kurt turns out of his current corridor and stops. At the very end of the seemingly endless hallway, the doors are open. It's sad since he used to never like going outside, but he'll take it. His walking quickens, as does his breathing. Is there a chance he'll pass out? Sure, but he needs to get out. His happy place isn't in his mind or the school, at the last the choir room, but outside. A place where he can keep on walking.

Who survived? It's the last stretch for him before he can start putting this tragedy behind him, but his mind is still going. He hasn't seen Karofsky's body, so maybe he did. Miss Pillsbury too. At this point, he had only seen one surviving member of his friends, and they also happened to be his savior the first time around. He really hopes his savior was a survivor as well.

The light seems somewhat bright after seeing blood and being distressed for so long. At about halfway down the hallway, he can see a large crowd of people outside; from news people and concerned families, to some of the survivors and the police. Kurt knows he's spotted when he hears a few people cry out. He has only moved a few more feet when he sees a group of people moving into the school. He sees police on the watch while a stretcher is pulled in for him.

He can't help the small that befalls his lips and the relieved chuckle that's manage to survive this long. Before he can collapse, he feels several hands on him, lifting and falling. Kurt's never noticed how some of these cushioned stretchers can be, not that he's been on many. But he's a boy, he's experimented a few times on them when he had to go to the hospital for shots or something. It's nice and smooth too. He's quite happy that the stretcher only slips a few times on the blood pools, otherwise he'd end up throwing up.

The natural light from the sun is suddenly in his eyes. He takes in a deep breath of the untainted air, at least compared to in the school, and opens his eyes to see the blue sky and the clear day. A roar of relief is hear from his right and he looks over. A good distance from the school are some police that are preventing people from getting any closer, and beyond that is his family, his father. Kurt manages a half-smile and that makes his father more determined to make it through the perimeter that the police have set up. Kurt wants to run to his father, but he can't. His father looks ready to kill to reach his only son, and Kurt would gladly join in with this bloody battle if it means that he gets to share on last hug, one last share of wide words with the only person on this earth that he loves. Is it too much to ask for the police officers and medical personnel to get out of the way and let he and his father have one last moment together. They both need it, crave it. It's a bond for him having the best father that anyone could want and him trying to be the best son that he can be.

Kurt moves his head back into the former place so he can see the sky again. He promises that he will see more of the sun if he has anything to say about it. Call it survivors guilt, or a possible concussion causing him to make promises that he might fail at keeping, but this is what he wants at that moment.

"Kurt."

Kurt's eyes widen slightly at the voice, his saviors voice. He turns his head to the right and sees his savior on a stretcher similar to his own. He opens his mouth to reply, but an oxygen mask is suddenly slipped over his mouth. Kurt would consider fighting, but he can't feel it in himself anymore. He looks down at his arm and finds it much paler than usual. A pool of his own blood is already forming around his hand. Kurt straightens his head out again and a small broken smile appears on his face. He's pretty sure that he's crying as well, based on the small pool of liquid building in the corner of his eyes. It's the end.

_I must be close . . . to death. This is it right? My body is bleeding out, becoming weaker. Everything seems brighter too. Hmm. I guess this is the end. At least I made it out. I . . . I-I made it. I . . . I . . ._

* * *

So that was part 1. Part 2 will hopefully be as long and continue on from here. Let me know if you think it's good or not. Can't wait to hear what you think.

The song is Untitled by Simple Plan


	2. Chapter 2

**The Untitled Wound**

**Author: **GleekShip

**Spoilers:** Set During Season 1, but no spoilers.

**Summary: **Kurt does everything he can do to survive the final moments of a shooting at McKinley.

**Pairings: **Kurt/?

**The Untitled Wound**

They say that when one is to die, that they see their lives flash before their eyes. You'd see your loved ones, those fond memories that you could easily remember in life, or maybe the occasional kinky sex that you and your partner had had and it makes you grin like an idiot. This all works in theory of course. Since nobody actually comes back from those few minutes that you are dead and can remember it all to a clear detail, it's completely unconfirmed. Yet somehow, it remains a popular theory with personal views all the way to pop culture. However, if seeing ones life flash before their eyes isn't what happens when on the brink of death, then what does happen? Nothing? Aliens? Your soul floats around and returns to you, giving you a new sense of purpose to live life to the best that you can? What happens when you die?

.

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.

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The lights are bright enough to where it makes him want to open his eyes, but he still has enough morphine in his system to be content enough without doing so. Just to bask in any source of light is appreciated as well, even though he can tell that it's artificial. At least the artificial lights were better funded than the crappy ones at the school. Those flickering ones didn't make his day at that school any better. Even though he hated hospitals, he'd rather have these at this point in this life.

He does a mental check of his body. It's not like he can feel half of it anyways, thank you morphine, but he can feel his toes and fingers. He wants to curl them, or even twitch them, but he doesn't want to cause any interest in whoever may be around. What kind of person would he be to cause false alarm and false hope to whoever he has in the room with him? It's all good though because he can feel the circulation in his system.

His thoughts return to his recent trauma and the experience that he received from it. He will most likely never feel the same again. He saw his first death; his first time seeing someone shot, the first loss of a friend. Too many firsts that he or anyone that he knows should never have had to experience. To be honest, he's afraid of waking up and finding who's alive and who's not. That's the worst part. He's seen so many people dead that at this point, he'd rather just everyone be dead so he wouldn't have to see the aftermath. He's already aware that his body must look like a mess, particularly his stomach with what feels like a massive hole in it. None of the survivors will look pretty after all of this, well except for his savior. He didn't see any problems with them, but he only used those few seconds he had to look into those captivating eyes. They looked so kind, so full of non-regretful pain at all of the actions that they must have pulled that day.

Day? Kurt twitches on the inside as he tries to think of the day that had happened . . . a Thursday it was. It was a Thursday and today is . . . well he can't think of today's date to save his life. Mainly because he doesn't know how long he's been under the medicine's usage, but also because the bright light in his eyes give him no indication to what it looks like outside.

Kurt calms himself down and just listens for a moment . . . to just listen. He can hear his own heartbeat slowly pulsing in the heart monitor. The individual beeps are loud enough to show the steady rhythm of his breathing. He can also hear the sound of someone breathing, apart from his own that is. This one is much deeper and has a tremble through it. It seems to belong to someone of an older age, of someone with stress. Kurt knows that it's his dad. His dad is the only one that he knows personally other than his friends. His ears move on and he can hear the slight stir of something moving, but he's not able to make out what it is. It could be anything, but Kurt gives up on that.

Now that he knows that his father or at least he thinks and that it's most likely his father, he tries some muscle movement. He can already feel some of his body as well as his chest slowly moving up and down to breathe. He focuses on his hands and is relieved when he feels one of his fingers twitch and brush against the sheet that covers his body. He feels the cool sheet touch his finger again as he moves a few more. The sounds of the small movement on the bed reach his ears.

Kurt's pretty sure that he could wake up now and be perfectly fine. His body is pretty healthy, apart from a while somewhere in his stomach, but he feels fine. His motor skills and five senses are working.

Kurt licks the roof of his mouth and taste's an overwhelming amount of bad breath.

So yes, all five of his senses are working. He's slowly able to feel more of his body as it gets used to him wanting to use it after lack of use for however long that he had been in the bed. He moves his eyes around and can feel them moving under his heavy eyelids. They're probably caked with rheum that had collected there while he slept and had his eyes shut.

He stretches his eye lids and he can practically hear the loud cracks of the rheum breaking apart. It takes him a few seconds before he can blink a few times before seeing the bright light above surrounded by the Styrofoam ceiling tiles of the hospital room. He can feel the rheum weighing down on his eyelids, but he ignores them to let his eyes get used to the light without the protection of his eyelids. He can feel the soreness of his eyes from lack of use as he slowly rolls his eye to the corner of his eye.

His dad is slumped in the old and probably uncomfortable cushioned chair that the hospitals usually provide. The man's eyes look so dark around his eyes, so sleep deprived. Kurt can even see a few tear streaks down the mans face now that his eyes are getting more adjusted to finally being open. His flannel shit is wrinkled and stained in some areas, probably from not changing clothes after recent stressful events. His arm is laid along the armrest of the chair in Kurt's general direction, his fingers relaxed from a hold position. Kurt looks near the old mans hand and sees that it's near his own. He lets his finger twitch out and graze his dads' finger. He sees the finger twitch and his dad shift in his chair, but nothing more.

Kurt moves his eyes around and he spots the clock on the wall. It's almost two in the afternoon. The round clock on the wall is ticking far too slowly for Kurt's taste. He's tired of things going slow. Things need to go fast again so he doesn't have much time to think . . . to remember. He looks away from the clock when the noise starts to create a pounding sensation in his ear. Anything that remotely sounds like a heartbeat might be too much for him for a bit, at least he figures so. There's nothing more gut-wrenching than hearing your own heartbeat for hours on end in between gun shots and bloody bodies.

Kurt looks back to his dad and slowly opens his mouth to speak. He stops when he feels the dryness of his throat. He quickly swallows and licks the inside of his mouth before trying again. All that comes out is a small croak. He lets out a shaky breath before slowly lifting his body and shifting it over on the bed a few inches. He feels a slight sting of pain, but there's enough morphine in his system from feeling any real pain.

Now his hand is able to take hold of his fathers. He gives the warm and rough hand a tight squeeze. His dad seems to be unsure if the squeeze came from a dream or reality. Kurt smiles and squeezes the hand again. This makes Burt slowly open his eyes. He goes to bring his hand back to himself, but stops when he sees a wide awake Kurt holding his hand. Kurt sees so many emotions cross his father's face and eyes before the man is up.

Kurt suddenly has a crying father on him. Burt was always one for hiding his emotions, but this whole thing was enough to break him. Kurt brings his arms up and wraps them around his dad as the man continues to mutter 'thank god' and 'I love you' into Kurt's ear.

* * *

Kurt's eyes stay close to the floor as he limps through the hallway. He knows people are looking at him; he is one of the few survivors of the massacre after all. That's what they're calling it. It's the Lima High Massacre. Blood War would be a better title in Kurt's opinion, but he's not the media. Out of all of the people that were shot in the school, only about two percent with gunshot wounds had survived. That ended up only being six or seven people, not even that Kurt thinks. But otherwise, at least forty percent of the school had died. The number was so extreme that many were still in shock and denial about it. _Forty percent._ Most of the students had been on the other side of the school and had got out. It turns out that there had been nine shooters that had entered the school that day. _Nine._ They split up into three groups and had went through three of the five doorways to the school.

The news had only revealed so much, but Kurt had pleaded with his father to find out. He doesn't know how, and he honestly doesn't want to know, but his father had managed

The gym had been shot up first. No one made it out of that class. The cafeteria and the main hallways where Kurt was were hit at the same time. Most were shot at the beginning. Others were shot through locked doors or the small windows. The bathrooms weren't even a safe place once the locks were shot off and the small rooms were taken over.

_Forty. Seriously forty._

Kurt can't get the number out of his head. That's almost half of the school that had suffered. Hopefully the school doesn't open back up anytime soon. No one needs to be back in that place. Burt had offered to transfer Kurt in a few weeks when things seemed slightly better for him, but Kurt just doesn't know yet. If the school were to open back up, he'd like to think that he could brave the past and show up. Mainly he wants to try and go back to the normal. He wants to be able to see who all survived. He also doesn't want to be separated from the person that saved him. Whether it be a co-dependency thing, or just that Kurt's sure he'll feel safe again, he just wants to be there. There, people won't look at him differently. Everyone that will be back at McKinley are the survivors and will share an understanding of the same even happening to all of them as a whole over going to another school where he will be inflicted with pity and sympathy. That's not what he wants. He wants to be on the same playing field as everyone else.

The only difference now is that they'll know not to push people around, or to not mistake people and judge them solely on their looks. They know that any students that they walk pass, any student that they regard as nothing in their allotted time for another individual, that that student can be on of nine that can come into the school and shoot up the place. Nine students had been rejected and tossed aside enough to feel this way and now everyone, of those that are still moving around and breathing, knows that any one person can reach their boiling point. It's just sad that they had to reach theirs and have this kind of reaction.

Kurt relaxes against the wall and tries to catch his breath. Ever since the bullet had protruded his soft skin and then had been dug up and out by doctors, he had been having a hard time breathing. He knows that the doctors are watching, amongst the other recovering survivors as well, to see if he was truly fit to leave. Today was his day to leave and he couldn't be happier. While he loved being in a hallway that was bright and clean as opposed to the dim and bloody, he wanted out of their. He wanted to feel the warmth and comfort that his own provided. He wanted that safety that the school never provided before, but most likely will provide now that safety laws and extra security measures will be put into place.

The only downside about going home is that he'll truly be alone, and he doesn't want that. Sure he'll have his dad, but that's only it. His dad had just started dating Carole Hudson, but the woman has just lost her son and has probably went into isolation like many of the mourning parents of the town. Plus with only one date between the single parents, the bond wasn't strong enough for his dad to be the shoulder that she would go to. So again, he'd be truly alone. Sure his dad would probably hover over him, but that doesn't help when it comes to actual companionship. All of his friends are dead, at least apart from one person that he never really associated with, but his savior was still there. It's highly doubtful that he'll see his savior anytime before he goes back to school, but it's the only hope he has. At least apart from joining some online community for one of his favorite TV shows. He has the list actually narrowed down to joining the Doctor Who fandom or the Merlin one, but he's holding those ideas for last since he doesn't want to spend his time online.

Kurt lets his back rest on the wall as he brings his hand slowly up to touch his stomach. Underneath his light jacket, shirt, and the series of bandages that are wrapped tight and snug around his body, he can feel a slight twinge of main in his body. It's nowhere near as bad as before, but that's what happens when he spends five days in a hospital, one out of conscious and four on a semi-regular sleep pattern. He's actually happy to be wearing a normal shirt for once, even if it's a bit too tight for his current condition. He's going to have to buy a few loose shirts since he has none anywhere in his house, unless he wants to wear his dads clothing. He doesn't. But these clothes work much better than a hospital gown to where he can feel a breeze touching some personal places when ever he stands up or moves around. For once, his skinny jeans don't feel too tight when he moves, which is probably due to the lack of food and mainly liquid diet on top of blood loss that he had experienced recently. It could also be because he's not moving as brisk as he usually would. His movements are much more slow and hesitant. He can't help it anymore than the sky can't help look blue on a regular basis.

He drops his hand from his body and lets out a shaky breath as he leans away from the wall and slowly makes his way down the hallway. His dad had reluctantly let him take one last walk around the hospital before they left. Kurt wanted to have some quiet time around some bit in the open before he becomes isolated in the house until McKinley reopens, or he convinces his dad that he's healthy and stable enough to drive somewhere.

His eyes dart around as he moves down the hallway. He has yet to see any faces that he would want to see. The few people that he had seen were just blurred faces that he had once seen in the crowd at school. A few of them smiled at him, but never stopped. He had actually woke up one day to find his dad sleeping. So he decided to take a trip down and had found some familiar parental faces that were going to the morgue, or making arrangements at the small funeral parlor that was attached to the hospital. He couldn't see himself going to talk to them, not when he had survived and had watched their kids being gunned down. How would they react? What would they do? Either they'd ask him what he knew, or would hate him. He didn't want to find out.

He looks up when he sees something move in his peripheral vision. He looks over to see his normal nurse waving at him from behind the nurses' station. He had gotten Nurse Jackie. When he first heard her name, he started laughing until he was whimpering in pain. She told him that he wasn't the first to reference her to the actual show, but to take it easy. She had told him to friend her on Facebook whenever he got out and she'd be ready to hear all of the Nurse Jackie jokes that he had to give her. She was the only one that got him to actively laugh during his week in the hospital, much to the dismay of his father and his bad fishing jokes. Kurt waves back to the woman and gives her one of his few genuine smiles before continuing down the hallway.

Kurt hesitates for a second before sliding his hand into his pocket. After going almost a week without his phone, his dad had returned it. He didn't want Kurt to see old pictures or names and reminisce. It was also a way to keep him from the violence of what had happened, but he had learned enough from the TV when his dad was gone or asleep and the nurses who took pity on him thanks to his ability to pout really well in combination with his injuries.

He pulls out his phone and turns it on. He had yet to look at all of the missed messages and calls that he had received that day and the many since. His dad had told him about taking the numbers down so he could call the parents back of his many friends. Burt wanted to delete all of the messages off to save Kurt from having to look at it, but Kurt wanted those messages. He wasn't going to look at them anytime soon, but he was going to put them on his computer to look at them in the future whenever he felt better enough to do so without going into a panic attack of some sort.

Kurt ignores the many messages on his phone before opening his contacts. He keeps his eyes to the side so he knows which letter of the alphabet that he's on while scrolling so he doesn't have to see the names, but that doesn't stop him from stopping on the 'm' section of the letters. That one's going to be hard. Mer- . . . she is going to be on his conscience for a while. Kurt lets out a shaky breath as he scrolls a bit further.

He's pretty sure that he might be the only one of his friends to classify his savior under something other than his nickname. It's like when someone gets called their name so much that it becomes the norm for them, well Kurt didn't like that. He likes real names. It gives him a legit connection to the people that he communicates with; at least that's what he hopes it does.

He stops on the name and lets his finger hover above it. As far as he knows, and when he's asked about, his savior is not in the hospital, or at least this one. So either his savior is another hospital, which is unlikely since he's seen many an empty room here, or his savior left the school safe and had been sent home. Kurt doesn't remember seeing injuries on the body, but he could have forgotten by now. His savior was only put on that stretcher to be checked out just in case, or the injuries were severe enough that would require his savior to be send off to one of the bigger hospitals an hour or so away. It was impossible to tell.

Kurt decides to take the chance and lets his finger drop down on his touch-screen. The 'green call' button blinks quickly before his screen suddenly has the badly taken picture of his savior, which he had taken when his savior wasn't looking just so he had a picture, and the name is in white bold underneath. It only takes him a second to hesitate before his finger moves down to click the red 'end call' button.

He lets out a shaky breath. He never thought he was a coward when it finally came to surviving, but he's a coward now. He can't stand having to talk to the person that saved him. He just can't. What would he say? What would be said to him? What if it turns out that his savior died and he reaches his saviors grieving mother or father? He doesn't want to impose like that.

He doesn't get to think much more on that before his phone vibrates in his hand and the 'Marimba' ring-tone of his iPhone goes off. Above the slider option to unlock his phone, he sees the same picture and name flash up that had been on their only moments earlier. His savior is calling him back. Is this a good thing? Should I ignore them? But I owe them. Kurt's caught up in his own inner thoughts, but he knows what he has to do. He can't go any further without thanking his savior at the very least.

Kurt moves again so he can rest his shoulder blades against the wall first before resting his entire back. He moves his phone to his left hand before he hits the 'call' button with his thumb. He can see the timer start on his phone for how long that the calls been going on. 5 . . . 6 . . . 7 . . . He brings the phone to his ear. He's met with the sound of someone breathing. He can easily identify it now, even though he wouldn't have been able to before. This is the first time that he's ever used his saviors' number.

"Kurt." The rough voice comes through the phone, but it barely makes its way through Kurt's pounding head. He's just so overwhelmed at hearing that voice after hearing his savior in pain after pushing Kurt away. This voice sounds pained, but it's not from any wounds. "Kurt, is this you? Please tell me it's not you, Mr. Hummel. I . . . I don't think that I could handle it if K-K-Kurt di-"

"It's me." Kurt's soft voice breaks his saviors' voice off. He knows he should have answered the voice, or at least cut it off already, but it took him a bit to gather his thoughts. He didn't realize that he was causing such panic for his savior. "I . . . sorry for not answering before. I'm just not sure what I can say to you."

He can hear the agreeing breath through the phone. "Well . . . are you . . . are you okay? When are you leaving the hospital?"

"T-today actually." Kurt quickly nods to himself as his dialogue starts speeding up to the verge of it being a loud rant in the quiet hospital hallway. "I'm so sorry. I-I've been wanting to call you for this past week to find out what happened to you, but then my dad just gave me my phone back today and I don't know your number by heart to begin with, but that will change now. I'm going to memorize it. I promise you that. And then I didn't want to call in case something bad happened to you and I had to talk to your mom or dad and then they'd yell at me for surviving and you not and I didn't want to be a nagging reminder after losing you and-"

"Kurt." Kurt takes the cut-off from his rant as a chance to take a breath after saying so much in two short breaths. Run-on sentences may look bad when written, but they're worse when said aloud when the speaker is distressed and they're using run-ons. "You need to breathe. Trust me; I've been just like you, well apart from being in the hospital. I've been staring at my phone for days when my ma or sister weren't fussing over me. As soon as you called, I had to call you back. Otherwise I don't know when I would have called." The lips to the voice let out a shaky breath. "Kurt . . . I haven't seen or heard from anybody for the past week now. No one is answering my calls. You're the first person that I've heard from since everything. The news and the papers are keeping all of the names locked up for now. I'm freaking out because I don't know who l-lived . . . or died."

Kurt lets out a shaky breath before nodding to himself. "Can . . . I don't think I can see it without breaking down. Can we not do this now?"

"Kur- . . . Can I come over today? After you get settled down of course. I just . . . I need to see a familiar face that I know and like. I need it, or else I'm gonna go crazy. I can't just sit here." Kurt closes his eyes and feels burning tears behind his eyes as he hears the frustrated growl. "I . . . I know you want to get home, and be with your family, but I need something. You were part of my family at school and even if I've never showed it, I do care about you, Kurt."

"I know." Kurt's voice is soft as he slowly opens his eyes. "And I you. Just let me talk to my dad first. I'll text you the time when I can. Just . . . stay calm for now. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Thank you, Kurt. Just thank you. So much." Kurt smiles at the relief in the voice. "Is there anything that I need to bring?"

Kurt cracks a smile. "Just bring yourself and anything you need to stay calm."

"Great. This is great. Thank you, Kurt." He can hear the smile in his saviors' voice. He loves hearing the happiness in the voice. It was something that he had hardly ever heard unless his savior was with certain people, but it sounds great being directed towards him after their past together.

They both seem to come to a mutual decision after the comfortable silence to end it there. They both had a long night in front of them. Kurt's the first one to say a soft "goodbye" with his savior only mentioning it within a milli-second of him. Kurt smiles as his thumb slides down and hits the red 'end call' button, but this time he's fine with cutting off the call.

Kurt brings his phone to his mouth to cover his smile, to cover the first time that he might make it through this. All he needs is his savior at his side and it will all end well. Kurt almost chuckles as he brings his hand down so he can slide his phone into his jeans. He closes his eye, takes in a deep breath and lets his shoulders rise up with it before he lets out and relaxes against the wall. He only stays against the wall for a few more seconds before leaning away from it. He has a bit of stuff to do before he meets his savior for the first time since everything. For once in his life, he's looking forward to seeing Noah Puckerman.

* * *

So another chapter down. This originally was going to end with this chapter, but I have a bit of an idea to make it go at least a few chapters longer. I hope you enjoyed. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**The Untitled Wound**

**Author: **GleekShip

**Spoilers:** Set During Season 1, but no spoilers.

**Summary: **Kurt does everything he can do to survive the final moments of a shooting at McKinley.

**Pairings: **Kurt/?

**The Untitled Wound**

Kurt lets out his increasing amount of shaky breaths as he steps out of his bathroom. It's not his fault that there's too many things that cause his nerves to freeze his body up and makes him want to hide. Today it would be that he's meeting Noah Puckerman after last seeing the boy on a stretcher after the mohawked boy saved his life. That was the main reason that he was nervous. What do you say to someone that could have died trying to save you, someone that could have already have been hurt? He's pretty sure the boy was lying when he said he wasn't in the hospital. He had to at least get a check-up after everything, and there could still be stuff that's going on with the boy. This is when Kurt's nervousness and anxiousness turns into guilt.

He stumbles over to his bed, the only pleasure that's been there for him recently. A place to be warm, a place to hide, a place to curl up, and a place to cry. He lets himself fall onto the pile of blankets and buries his face into them. He had taken out every piece of woven material that's meant to cover from his closet and from the rest of the house as well as all of the pillows he could get. He had been surrounding himself with that so it didn't feel like he was on a hard surface of any sort. He wanted this softness around him at all times, even if he could see his dad wanting to question the decision. This was his comfort at the moment. It's not like he could call Tina or Mercedes up and cuddle with them now could he.

That was another issue. He had only been home for seven hours or so, getting out early in the morning, and he had already made so many changes. On top of getting the comfort of his bed put together after the first hour, he had went through a stream of emotions rather quickly, and probably in an unhealthy way. Kurt had chosen to lay down and just stare into the emptiness of his room and heart when his dad had come in to check on him; it hadn't ended well. Kurt had lashed out in anger and swore his butt off to his dad using every filthy and derogatory name in the book before he became mute. His dad looked hesitant on what to do, but Kurt had decided for him when he fell back into his mound of a bed. His dad had left the room, probably confused and hurt most likely. It had only taken ten minutes before Kurt left his room and joined his dad in the kitchen, which had lead to a 30 minute cry and sob session, from both men. Apologies were said, fears put on the table, and a deal was made.

Part of that deal was about to go into fruition. Burt had wanted Kurt to wait downstairs for when Puck first arrived, having wanted to talk to the boy. Kurt immediately had some idea of what was going to go down, him already having told his dad that Puck had been the one to save him. Anything else in their conversation would most likely reach his ears sooner or later from his dad. Kurt groans and turns over in the blankets so he can see his room out of his left eye and the darkness of his blankets and his eyelid with the right.

He could care less about how he looks at the moment, his messy hair already providing the evidence. He had tried taking a shower, but he didn't want to have to undress his wound and see the damage. He's been living to his original orifices on his body his entire life so far and another one in his stomach would probably end up with his bathtub full of vomited hospital food followed by hours of heaving. He'd have to get used to seeing the wound soon, but that's not going to be today. At least he doesn't smell bad, thanks to the hospital and his lack of any physical exertion this past week.

He knows that he should be in pain right now, but he may have taken an extra pill to keep the pain away longer. That and the fact that since he had to leave the hospital, the doctors had wrapped some extra bandages around his stomach for his venture home. He's not complaining. Surprisingly, he's managed to move himself quite well and has more or less not felt anything unless he's focusing his thoughts on that part of his body . . . like he is now. Kurt swears as he feels a slight ping in that region in particular, but he quickly switches himself back to his anxiety and hesitation.

At this point, he's pretty sure that he's regressed a few years and underwent a gender swap so he can play the part of angsty teenage girl who's attitude changes every few minutes and only complains about his inner turmoil and how everything revolves around him. Sure he has a legit reason, but that doesn't mean he still can't be civil. At most, at least he makes himself promise himself, it's only going to last only a few days and only when he's alone. That's the key to longevity and secrecy so he's not required to go under a psyche evaluation, even though he most likely will have to visit a grief counselor.

He stills his breathing for a few soft seconds so there's less of a distraction as he tries to listen in on the most likely awkward situation that is going on upstairs. He can hear the faint sound of muffled voices, but that's only just because his ears are tuned in on listening. The average person wouldn't be able to hear anything since his walls are soundproof, so it's a practice. He's half-tempted to go up his staircase and peek out to see what's going on, but he's not that brave. He's sure that what ever is going on up there, it's a private moment that he would consider himself not rude enough to interrupt. The fact that Noah Puckerman is willingly in his house kind of scares him.

Kurt sits up from his pile of blankets and pillows before sighing. He gulps and locks his jaw as he moves to the edge of his bed and hangs his feet off. He waits for them to land firmly on the ground before he clenches his hands on the edge of his mattress and main comforter set. His leg starts shaking up and down as he looks to the ground. Maybe seeing Puck won't be scary, but it's not up to him. The only thing that he has to say is a thank you. It's not like they're friends or anything. Just Puck . . . and Kurt, way over there in the corner with no interactions between the two.

Kurt's head snaps to his left as he hears the soft padded footstep. It's soft at first, but then the weight of a body makes his top few stairs creak, as per the norm. He turns his body slightly as he watches the feet descend his stairs. His first surprise is the different style of clothes that Puck wears. He's not wearing his normal loose jeans, but ones that actually fit his body in a comfortable way. Once Kurt is able to see Puck's upper body, he lets out a sigh of relief at the normal t-shirt. At least he has one figure that allows him to continue to be the normal Puck that Kurt knows.

Puck stops at the bottom of the staircase and takes in Puck as a whole. The boy has his fans in his pants, but Kurt can visibly make out the clenching and un-clenching fists within. Kurt can see the veins popping out on the boys arms. Kurt's a bit relieved that he's not the only one stressed, nervous, and anxious about this whole encounter between the two, but he's concerned. He doesn't know what Puck saw, or who he saw die. Different people are witnessing different things and react different things.

Kurt's eye reach Puck's face and it damn near breaks his heart. The boy looks like he hasn't slept, hasn't eaten, hasn't done anything that would deem him a normal human following normal human functions. The bags under his eyes are as dark as Kurt's ever seen someone with lack of sleep. The boys hazel eyes have a sore redness look around them. The hazel eyes are kept to the floor. Kurt doubts that Puck has even looked him in the face or in his general direction besides a glance since he's been in the room.

Kurt lets out a shaky breath before standing up. He gulps and clears his throat as he takes on step forward. He wants to say something, but he's undecided on what name to use, on which name he should refer to his hero as.

Kurt shuts his eyes and breathes in one long and much needed breath. "N-Noah." He goes with the name that feels right to speak.

Puck eyes quickly find Kurt's and that's both of their breaking points. Kurt quickly moves with Puck towards each other until their arms are wrapped around each other. Kurt has his face hidden into Puck's shoulder as Puck hides his face in Kurt's hair. Both of them had bone-breaking limbs wrapped around each other. Kurt lets himself go as his tears stain up Puck's shirt. Puck's the first one to make a verbal sound with a choked sob as he clings onto Kurt even more. Kurt has one hand wrapped around Puck's back and the other one is holding onto Puck's neck, holding him there.

* * *

Burt gives the hugging teens one last look before he makes his way up the stairs. He makes sure to step on the side of the steps next to the wall so it doesn't squeak as he ascends the stairs. Seeing his son truly let go to a complete stranger to him is a big impact on him right now. Why not him? Why doesn't his son talk to him anymore? He had been given the chance over a week ago when he had kicked Finn out of the house, but all he had done was leave his son alone in his sorrows. That's what he's doing again, but at least there's someone to comfort his boy now.

Burt sighs and runs his hand over his face as he enters the kitchen. This has been a tough week for him emotionally compared to the physical damage of Kurt. While Kurt was in the hospital, Burt had discovered from his doctor that he was having heart problems. He wouldn't have known, but his doctor had found Burt clutching his chest in the hallway while Kurt was undergoing surgery to remove the bullet from his stomach. That's something that he's keeping from Kurt though, at least until it becomes more than just a minor scare.

He remembers when his heart had first started hurting; the moment that he saw Kurt on that stretcher. He had been standing by all of the other worried parents when he spotted his boy. It could have been anyone bleeding out and having that pale skin, but he knew it was his boy. Who else would wear those expensive clothes. Being held back the police was the worst feeling that he had ever felt up until that point in his life, even worse than when his wife died. Watching his baby boy being moved away and he could do nothing. That feeling was broke over and over again as he went to the hospital, waited for his son, and then sat by his side day after day. Within the span of a week, he had put his heart on the line for his son, and he would do so again. His heart was just a piece of dust as far as he was concerned. It could be swept under the rug and stepped all over if it meant that he could do his best to help his son.

Burt sits down at their small kitchen table and stares at the half-empty cup of coffee that he had abandoned when the Puckerman boy came over. He had been like Kurt a few minutes ago. He had held onto the boy and just cried as he thanked the boy for saving his sons life. Puck had done the same and they were just that for a few minutes before they had separated. They both knew that Burt knew of Puck's former history with his son. If the boy had survived the shooting and had he not saved Kurt, but would have retaliated with violence had the boy shown up at his door. He has plenty of built-up aggression and frustration at this point that he's willing to put his heart on the line again to get it out. But the boy had saved his sons life and that changed things. After their hug, Puck had started asking about Kurt, about his condition, to which Burt had answered with no problem. Puck had brushed off Burt's attempts to ask about the tan boy, but Burt had gotten him to admit some of his story of what went on in that school and how he had come about to saving his son.

Burt reaches forward to his cup of coffee. He had been drinking an unspeakable amount recently to stay awake, whether it be straight black or loaded up with sugar, he just needed it. He stands up from his chair with the cup and makes his way over to the sink. Maybe now that that Puckerman kid was here he'd be able to calm down a bit with Kurt having a friend on his side. But what's left for him, then? What does his son need from him since he hasn't been able to comfort him yet?

* * *

Kurt waits for the silence to return to the room before he slowly loosens his grip on the boy pressed against him. Puck does the same, but he's more reluctant to. Kurt glances to his left to look at the boys face as they separate and he sees that the boys face is stained with tears, the other half being soaked onto Kurt's shirt, and looking down-right depressed. Kurt wants to wipe away the tears, but he's not close enough to Puck emotionally to do that. Kurt reaches behind him and lets his hands create some new sounds in the room while his hand searches the table until he comes up with a few tissues. He holds them up to Puck and the boy takes them. He gives Kurt a weak smile before turning away to clean himself up.

Kurt brings his arms up so he can cross them over his chest for comfort. An unexpected chill hits him so he rubs his hands against his bare arms. He slowly moves away from the boy and takes a seat down on the edge of his bed. It's one thing to hug a somewhat friend, but it's another to hold the guy for several minutes while you both bawl your eyes out. Since he hasn't been hit yet or referred to in a derogatory fashion, he's assuming that this has been Puck for a while, or this whole shooting massacre has changed his mine drastically to where Puck has almost tipped over into a new persona.

Kurt watches as Puck slowly turns around. He knows what he saw that day, but he has no idea what the other boy saw. It could easily be much worse than his vision. After all, Puck was one of the popular kids, had the most friends, could have easily have seen more of them die. Puck drops the tissue into the small trash can that Kurt had recently put by his bed in case he felt the urgency to upchuck his empty stomach. Kurt averts his gaze from the boy as he settles down a foot or two away from Kurt. He can see Puck turn on the bed s he's facing Kurt out of the corner of his eye and he can't help but smile. Puck actually seems to be civil and willing to have a conversation with Kurt.

"You look like Hell." Puck comments.

Kurt turns towards him with a frown, but he sees a small smirk on those tan lips. "Why thank you, Noah. I haven't had a chance to shower yet today. To wash away the grime and crap."

"Why not?" Puck's eyebrows furrow. "You have your own bathroom. If I wasn't in there for a shower I'd be-" Puck cuts himself off by shaking his head and gulping. "You can get away with a long shower or a fancy bubble bath-thing. So why not take one?"

"Are you seriously asking me about my showering habits?" Kurt asks with a small smile, completely relieved that they're starting off with this simple, friendly tone.

Puck snorts and slowly nods. "Yeah. Yeah I am. It's much better than the alternative."

They both slowly lose their smiles at that idea. It's what they came here to talk about, but neither of them seem ready to besides a quick and most likely never-to-be-talked-about-again sob session. At least the tension is broken for the most part, or at least it's rapidly dissipating with their current bathroom talk.

Kurt lets out a shaky breath before accepting the inevitable. "If I take a shower, that means I'll have to clean . . ." Kurt's hands instinctively go to where his wound is. "I'll have to clean this. I know I'll have to do it eventually or it'll get infected, but I don't want to see it right now. I want to postpone that process for as long as I'm able to."

Puck nods, understand it. He himself hates looking at all of the bruises that he has. It's a constant reminder of the many cowardly and selfish mistakes that he made that day. He actually has a massive dark purple bruise growing on his side from where he fell on Kurt when he pushed him out of the way that day, but it's not something he'll tell Kurt about. He made it out without seeing too many people die. His main issue was that he was stranded and out of friends rather fast.

Puck sighs, not wanting to go down memory lane. "So does that mean I can't see it?"

Kurt's eyes widen as he slowly shakes his head. "Why would you want to do that?"

Puck shrugs. "I don't know. I've never seen an actual bullet wound before. That and scares make people look cool, I figured I could help you out in that area."

Kurt snorts and clutches his hands to his stomach as the function rumbles through his body with amusement. "I do not need help looking cool. I'm cool all on my own."

"I'll give you that, Kurt." Puck smiles at Kurt before he releases a strained breath. "But seriously, I think you should let me see it. I'll even clean it for you so you don't have to. I get to see your scar, and you don't have to clean it."

Kurt's intrigued and most into the proposition, but he still has a nagging in his mind that he has to get out. "Noah, be straight with me. Why do you want to see this scare so badly? No false excuses, or funny puns. We're here to have . . . some sort of talk. I don't really know yet. So I expect an honest answer from you from time to time."

Puck reaches up and runs a hand over his face as he lets out a harsh breath, not wanting to do this, but knowing that he has to. "I want . . . I want to see the wound that I caused. You got shot because I pushes you down. Right into the bullet. It's . . . i-it's my fault, Kurt. And . . . I'm so sorry, Kurt. I thought I was helping you and-"

"Shh." Kurt quickly moves to Puck's side and hugs the boy. "It wasn't your fault, Noah. There were two bullets. If you didn't push me out of the way and onto one bullet, I would have been shot in the face. You saved me, Noah. You saved me. I'm alive because you were so brave." Kurt pulls back from puck slightly so their eyes can meet. "I don't care what anyone has ever said about you, Noah. You are a brave and special man. I can see you doing great things because you have the courage and strength to do so."

Puck is like melting ice in Kurt's arms; he just breaks down again. Kurt has a feeling that this is going to be happening a lot between the two boys during this conversation today and however many more come in the future. It's just bound to happen, it kind of needs to happen according to Kurt. This is good. They both have someone to lean on and to connect to about everything.

"Noah." Kurt keeps his voice soft, he doesn't even think about it at this point. "I owe you a huge thank you. If it wasn't for you, then I'd just be another number and name for the news to get views about."

Puck chuckles into Kurt's neck. "Even I know that's not true. You'd be missed by everyone . . . even me."

"Thank you, Noah." Kurt slowly pulls back before glancing briefly to the bathroom. "Come on then. The sooner the wound is clean, the better off I'll be."

Kurt is beyond confused by this encounter. He never expected that this is where he'd end up with Puck. Yes he expected them to have a deep talk and maybe gain some ground for an understanding with each other, but he never expected that he'd end up having to have Puck clean him up while they share sob stories with each other. If he thought this week was the worst ever, life had a funny way of putting a clever twist to be attached to his hip by the end. But before he knows it, he and Puck are up from the bed and walking over to Kurt's bathroom, Puck trailing behind him a bit. It seems like it will be awkward, but Kurt's only feeling confusion and minor awkwardness at this point. Nothing about feeling embarrassed or fear as he initially thought he would be in this situation. Being completely honest, he may have had a stray thought or two about Puck during his nighttime rituals over the past few months when Puck had moved from bully to minor annoyance in the back of the choir room. So he's quite happy that a blush isn't on his face and that this thought is only a brief passing in his mind before it's gone and they're in the bathroom.

Kurt stands by the sink while Puck goes over to his cabinet to get a few towels. Kurt has to move out of the way so Puck can get into the medicine cabinet above the sink. Burt knows that his dad had stored the proper medical stuff that he had picked up from the hospital pharmacy shortly before Kurt's release for when his son had returned home. He watches as Puck pulls out the extra bandages, gauze and a few sterile pads. Kurt moves to sit down on the toilet and watches as Puck plugs the sink before filling it with warm water. He tests the water a few times before nodding with satisfaction.

Puck turns to Kurt and Kurt can see that the boy has his hands clenched again, the stress getting to him. "Alright." Puck lets out a shaky breath. "I need you to . . . to take off your shirt."

It's not awkward or embarrassing. Puck actually sounds very caring at the moment and concerned for Kurt. Kurt lets out a shaky breath before looking to the ground. Originally, he would have had to have his dad help him out of his shirt, but now he has to have Puck help and he's extremely reluctant to do so. Puck seems to understand the unasked question and just gives Kurt a small smile before he takes a few steps forward and knees before the boy.

"Can you . . . are you able to lift your arms?" Puck asks hesitantly. "I know you could when we hugged, but can you lift them all the way up?"

Kurt bites his lip before shrugging. "I can try."

He only manages to get his arms up halfway before his face cringes in pain. "Alright." Puck takes Kurt's arms and pulls them down slowly. "Hold your arms out for me. I think that'll be easier."

Kurt nods and just holds his arms out. He can feel his face burning up as Puck's hands go to his waist and teases the edge of his shirt and pulls the shirt up. Once Puck spots the edge of the white bandages, he slows down so the shirt doesn't snag on any of them and rips them off of Kurt's body. Puck's hand goes to the back of Kurt's neck where the back of shirt is scrunched up at and carefully pulls his over Kurt's head.

Kurt lets out a shaky breath as he leans back against the cold toilet. Puck folds up Kurt's shirt quickly before placing it on the edge of the tub. When he looks back to Kurt's, his bottom lip quivers at the sight. Kurt may have severally wounded in one area, but his other wounds were still bad. Puck had seen the pale chest a few times when changing for glee club rehearsals, but there was barely any pale left to go around. There are bruises at every angle and with every shade from black to purple, to a very disturbing green. The hospital may have tried it's best to help Kurt, but Puck knows from experience that Kurt bruises easily and that it usually lasts long.

"Wow." Puck has to force himself to look away from the ruined body so he can meet Kurt's glasz colored eyes. "You look worse than I do."

Kurt's eyes narrow at the boy. "How bad are yours? Did you have to go to the hospital?"

Puck shakes his head and smiles. "No. Like I told you earlier, I didn't go. I was checked in the ambulance before they let me leave so they could help out some other people. I just have a few bumps and bruises, but this isn't about me. This is about you . . . and that."

Puck motions to the bandage that's covering as pot on Kurt's stomach. The small bandage is only three inches by three inches with some hospital tape. He looks at Kurt with hesitant eyes before he leans towards Kurt's wound after the boy nods. Once his fingers touch Kurt's skin around the bandages, Kurt jumps and giggles.

"Did I hurt you?" Puck asks quickly as he retracts his hands. "Damn. Sorry, Kurt."

"No." Kurt quickly shakes his head and just smiles. "No, Noah. You didn't hurt me. You're hands are just really cold."

"Oh." Kurt can see that Puck probably thought that he didn't like being touched, not that he didn't have a legit excuse.

Puck pulls his hands back and cups them around his mouth. Puck breathes in a few times to warm up his palms. Once he's done with that, he moves his hand to his jeans and rubs his hand along the fabric to create some friction. That's when Kurt's eyes widen a bit.

"What's with the new jeans?" Kurt asks as Puck stops rubbing his hands. "They don't seem you."

"They're not." Puck mutters as he returns his hands to the bandages where Kurt jumps again. "What now?"

Kurt chuckles. "I'm a bit ticklish there. Years without being touched have left my skin extra sensitive."

Puck chuckles and nods. "Makes sense. Just try not to squirm so I don't hurt you." Kurt nods and completely stills himself as Puck starts moving his hands around the bandage to find an easy access point. "As for the jeans, I didn't want the others anymore. I had a good amount, but they were all the same brand and looks the same." Kurt watches as Puck's eyes tear up a bit as he focuses on Kurt's stomach. "But I had to throw them away after having all that blood on the pair from that day. I just . . . I just kept seeing blood on every pair, it never washing away. So I got my ma to buy me another pair. So far, I haven't seen any blood on them. Progress I guess." Puck adds as he looks up to meet Kurt's concerned gaze.

Kurt nods, but freezes as he hears the sound and feels the soft removal of the edge of one of the sides of the bandage. He doesn't want to see it, but he feels better knowing that Puck is here to help him through it. Puck gives him a comforting smile before he continues to reveal the wound.

* * *

Back with another chapter. I really enjoyed writing this one. It's a very different feel than the first two. I hope you enjoy. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**The Untitled Wound**

**Author: **GleekShip

**Spoilers:** Set During Season 1, but no spoilers.

**Summary: **Kurt does everything he can do to survive the final moments of a shooting at McKinley.

**Pairings: **Kurt/?

**The Untitled Wound**

Kurt hisses with anticipation as he hears the soft threads of stickiness slowly being pealed off from his skin before the cool air of the bathroom rushes his skin and the stitches there. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath as he looks to the ceiling; he does everything he can to avoid seeing what his wound looks like. His eyes do flash open though when he feels something warm against his skin. Kurt lets out a breathy chuckle as Puck touches his sensitive skin, the tan and rough fingers spreading around, circling the wound until he stills his hand.

"T-that's a lot of stitches." Puck comments as he leans closer to observe the wound more. "And a crazy amount of dirt."

"What?"

Kurt snaps his head down and stops, his eyes spotting the wound. He hadn't seen where the wound was before, but he's sure that it looks loads better now that the stitches are in; there are seven of them. Each stitch makes Kurt feel like throwing up, but the sore red area around it with the swollen stitched area is what's making him go overboard. Before turning away for a breath, he can see the difference between his uncovered skin and the covered skin, a nice square imprint of the distinct layers of dirt and cleanliness there.

"Just a bit." Kurt mutters as he averts his eyes with a crinkled face to look over Puck's shoulder.

Puck sighs and flattens his hands onto Kurt's wound and lets his fingers spread out and touch Kurt's visible ribs. "I'm sorry that I didn't protect you from this one too." Puck's fingers slowly start moving again, carefully massaging the skin around the wound. "If I were a bit faster, or pulled you down instead of pushing you . . . you wouldn't have this."

"Or it could have been worse." Kurt says softly as he looks down to meet the boys eyes, but Puck's eyes are unmoving from Kurt's body. "We don't know what could have happened. That whole day . . . it was unpredictable. As far as I know, me getting this is the only way that you saved me." Kurt reaches down and places a shaky hand on top of Puck's unmoving one. "Please don't feel guilty about this. This will never be your fault."

Puck sighs and leans forward, touching his forehead to their hands. "I'm trying to believe that, but I can't see it that way right now. Can I . . . let me stay in this guilt for a bit. I think I kind of need it."

Kurt nods and lets out a shaky breath. "You have one week."

Puck pulls away from their hands and looks up to find Kurt smiling down at him. "Give or take."

Kurt chuckles as Puck pulls away, both of their hands dropping from Kurt's body. Puck leans over and pushes one of the wash cloths into the warm water, swirling it for a few seconds before removing it and twisting the cloth to drain the water through his fingers. He looks back to Kurt and smiles nervously as he brings the cloth back.

"My sister-" Puck starts as he presses the warm wet cloth gently against the edge of where the the bandage was, softly starting with the thin layer of indent there. "Is one that always gets hurt. I've lost count of how many times she's tripped, or tried jumping off the roof." Puck glances up at his own words briefly to see Kurt's shocked face before his eyes return to Kurt's body. "She never got bad enough to be hospitalized, but I always had to deal with scratches, bumps, and bruises. I sort of learned how to clean up things. The only new thing is stitches." Puck chuckles with a quick look to Kurt. "Although it seems to be the same as a bad bruise I think. Just soft-" Puck's finger moves gently across Kurt's wound before the soft cloth follows. "Touches and patience . . . and you'll be looking great in no time."

"As if I'll look anything less." Kurt chuckles as he looks away from Puck to fill his vision with the other side of the bathroom. "Are they dealing with this well? To everything that happened to us . . . to you."

Puck sighs and continues to clean Kurt's wound, slowing his movements down. "Kind of like your dad I guess. They're worried, but they're waiting for me to get used to everything that happened, to open up and talk to them first. I've . . . I've kind of closed myself off to them. Nothing out of the norm, but they have a legit reason now and it's scaring them."

Kurt brings his eyes back to his lap, trying to ignore the eyes of the boy between his legs. "And what about you? How are you actually coping?"

Puck drops his hands from Kurt and looks down. "I've already cried about it, even with you and your dad. There's nothing more to say really."

"So you can ask about me, but I can't ask about you?" Kurt looks to Puck with confused eyes, but meets Puck's stern and jaw-locked face.

"No, you can't." Puck sits back and continues to look at the floor. "Like I said, I want to deal with this on my own. Plus I owe it to you to talk to you about what happened."

"Because you saved me." Kurt's voice goes monotone.

Puck gives him a curt nod. "That and the fact that you were the only one to answer."

"Of your friends?"

"Yes."

"Well guess what, I consider you a friend, Puck." Kurt sneers. "Why, because since you joined glee club, you've become a human. That and the fact that my only friends were in that room, so I had to include you, Not because I wanted to. But now, you're my only friend left because the rest of them died." Kurt's voice is shaking as he glares at Puck's averted eyes. "So you will stay my friend because I don't have anyone else. Dammit, Puckerman. I thought you changed."

Kurt lets his shaky breaths echo into the room, cursing himself internally for letting his rant become various conflicting sentences. If he had more time, he'd elaborate, but a rant isn't the place for that.

"Are . . . are they all really d-dead?" Puck asks, his voice cracking.

Kurt sighs and tries to withhold his sudden anger. "Unfortunately, yes. I watched most of them go myself while seeing the b- . . . the bodies later on."

Kurt watches as Puck lets out a shaky breath as his head falls onto Kurt's knee. "So . . . so Quinn?"

"Yeah." Kurt slowly nods, but stops and his eyes widen. "Oh, Noah."

Puck starts shaking as he leans into Kurt, heartbroken. He quickly wraps his arms around the broken boy in front of him, the one that openly weeps for his unborn child. Kurt holds Puck against his chest, uncaring that he's not wearing a shirt or that Puck's tears are seeping into his wound; he just wants to comfort the boy for losing his unnamed child.

.

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They say that losing a child before the parent is the worst imaginable feeling, even worse than when the child watches the parent die. It's just unnatural for the child to die first. Miscarriages and errors during pregnancies are common, but to lose the child because the mother was shot in a school shooting are completely new circumstances that no one wants to even touch. What do you say . . . what do you do? In total, it's an experience that one should never go through, but then again, there are many experiences that this could apply to as well.

.

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Kurt can feel his wound starting to itch as Puck's breath even out on his body. He can't even wrap his mind around the idea of losing his child, it just hurts to much to process. Without even realizing it, he is making soft calming noises as one hand move gently through Puck's mohawk, calming the bigger boy. It must be a sight to see someone of Puck's size curled up and looking so defeated in the middle of Kurt's legs, his upper chest bare and with his arms around Puck.

"I had a song planned." Puck's voice cracks as he interrupts Kurt's thoughts. "I was going to sing it in glee club that day. Me and Fi- . . . me and the other guys were meeting up during lunch to practice it. Finn even got a part because he wanted to apologize to you."

"Hmm." Kurt cocks his head as he looks down at Puck. "For what?"

"The whole . . . bedroom thing." Puck slowly brings his wet eyes up to meet Kurt's and gives him a weak smile. "He told me all about it, so I was going to let him join in with the song. Two birds with one stone and all."

Kurt nods and gives Puck a shaky smile, his energy draining rapidly. "What song were you going to sing? I can't . . . I don't know of any that links one disaster of a day to the beauty that is life."

Puck glances down and Kurt finds that both of his hands now are on Puck's head, one stroking the strip of hair on top of his head and the other cupping Puck's muscular chin, feeling the movements of his jaw. "Beth . . . by Kiss. I had wanted to name her Beth, or to at least give Quinn the option to include me in her life. And the name . . . it fits. The song . . . it all fits, Kurt." Puck sounds so defeated as he looks back down to Kurt's body, frowning once his eyes reach there. "You're going to get infected if you don't get cleaned up sometime soon."

Kurt can only nods as Puck occupies himself with finishing up with Kurt's wound. Kurt watches as the boy is so careful that he wouldn't be able to imagine someone of Puck's physique doing this if it wasn't with his own eyes. It makes him curious as to all of his preconceived notions and their implausibility now, they're slowly disappearing one at a time. Maybe he'll have to rethink a few things about Noah Puckerman.

Maybe they were new friends, barely acquaintances in fact, but Kurt still feels some protectiveness and fondness with Puck. The boy had helped him and almost everyone else in the glee club since he had joined them back in September. He even Trick-or-Treated with all of them back in October, which had to be the best one that Kurt had in a long time. No matter how distant the two were from each other, they were still in the same club and considered each other family. Distant yes, but they were nonetheless part of a bond that had been created in that choir room.

Now that everyone important in his life was gone, at least those in the friends department, he's now left alone with only Puck as a friend; he boy who is wildly popular with the woman, the jocks, and even a few teachers at McKinley. Kurt wants to snort at the idea of Puck wanting to stay as his friend when the boy must have so many more. However, Puck _did_ want to call him, he _did_ come over to his house, he _is _helping Kurt clean up . . . maybe Puck is just alone in this as much as Kurt is. Just maybe.

"Kurt." Kurt looks down again to find Puck looking at him.

While Kurt was in his thoughts, Puck had already returned the warm cloth back to the cooling water in the sink and had his wound re-patched up, ready for Kurt to move again. Puck gives Kurt a soft smile before slowly standing up, Kurt's shirt in his hand. Kurt glances at the shirt in confusion before looking up at Puck.

The corner of Puck's mouth twitches as he holds out the boys shirt. "Why don't you go ahead and put yourself together? I'll just wait outside for you."

Kurt nods and slowly reaches out to take the fabric from the other boy, the sudden weight filling his hand making it drop. Kurt slowly looks down at the fabric, confusion still in his head and blocking his sense of common sense. His view of Puck's new jeans are gone along with the fading sound of feet across linoleum flooring of the bathroom and the soft shut of the door.

He reaches out so he can place his shirt on the edge of the counter while his other hand goes to his wound, the bandage, and feels the roughness of it. He'll have to take another pill soon because he can feel the pain down there, twitching under the thick layer of paper above it. Kurt has to admit though, it's not as bad as before, to which he can thank Puck for. It's very unexpected of Puck to have been this kind, but it's appreciated nonetheless and Kurt is willing to overlook it for the time being. His fingers outline the bandage and finds that Puck had put it back on in the exact place that the doctor had, but it felt oddly more comfortable on his skin. Whether it was the fact that he let a trusted person do it, or that Puck knew some magic way to make it fit his body better, he'd never know.

Kurt moves his hand up, feeling up his chest in a slow sensual way, his eyes shutting as a breathy gasp leaves his lips. Again, his emotions have changed. His hands reach his hard nipples and he drops them, his eyes going wide. He quickly stands up and shifts away from the toilet that he had been occupying through his quick scrub down.

"Wow." Kurt mutters. "Those thoughts are new."

He went from thinking fondly of Puck to being slightly turned on by the boy. Kurt quickly blinks those thoughts away as he makes his way over to the sink. He's dead terrified that Puck had noticed his hard nipples, or even if they had been hard throughout the entire thing. It's definitely something that will not be brought up and will be blamed on medicine and involuntary reactions if it is.

Kurt grips the counter and looks forward. His entire face, and now body, is still pale, but not as before. Kurt can see how pinkish his chest looks compared to the white around his bandage and wound. It's going to take a while, but he'll be a nice shade of tan in no time. Now that he has the wound, maybe he'll be able to convince his father to get them their own pool instead of using a public one. This wound will be able to provide him several excuses, but he doesn't expect to use it too often . . . just on things he really wants.

Kurt chuckles softly, proud to have his emotions return to happy. He smiles at himself, smiles at survival, smiles at a body returning to health. Kurt finds himself wanting to laugh, but he keeps it down as he looks around the bathroom and notices the mess that he and Puck had made when it came to cleaning up Kurt's wound. He'll get that later instead of now because then he'd be a bad host . . . and he's oddly intrigued by Puck at the moment.

The boy had honestly surprise him. As the first time alone since Puck's arrival, he's able to focus on all of the facts besides the shooting to assess the boy. He's now kind, and careful. His lingering gazes seem more focused and full of genuine concern. Last resort of a phone call be damned, that boy actually cares about him. He may have had a random burst of anger or tears, but those were from his own fear and struggles to accept and understand everything that's been going on. Besides the shooting, being as close to Kurt as he was a few minutes ago must have been a surprise in it's own way, but Puck is handling it quite well. What more is to come? How is he supposed to know? This isn't the Puck that he knew, and he's not sure if he's ready for a relapse anytime soon. Or maybe Puck's always been this way. Who knows?

Kurt lifts his shirt up so he can pull it over his head, but he finds that a jolt of pain is sent up and down his body, all centered around his wound. He sighs and lowers his arms again. He's about to lift them up enough to get it over his arms, but not over his head. He sighs again, for the umpteenth time, before he extends his arm quickly and lets the shirt fly from his loose grasp and fall into his dirty clothes bin, which had been empty until now. The shirt lands softly in the bin as Kurt looks away and pulls back from the sink. Puck's already seen him shirtless so he doesn't mind opening the bathroom door and walks out slowly, no at all nervous, it's just in the mood for him to do so.

His mind flashes to his future as he steps out of the bathroom, feeling as if this is how it'd be if he had a lover with him. These intimate moments, these slow touches and lingering glances, Kurt leaving the bathroom topless to find his lover spread out across their bed . . . but that's not now.

Puck is sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet and knees together with his hands clasped together on top of them. His eyes move to Kurt as his face goes from thought-provoking to ease and relax at the sight of Kurt. Survival has given them a connection and understanding that seems only the two of them will have.

"What are you doing?" Puck asks as Kurt crosses the room. "I thought you were getting dressed and put together."

"It hurts too much to raise my arms." Kurt answers as he opens his closet doors and stands there for a second. "I didn't want to ask you again so I figured that I'd just get an easier shirt for access and comfort."

"I wouldn't have minded helping you." Puck says from behind him on the bed.

Kurt shrugs before venturing into his decent sized closet, taking in a deep breath as he does. "It's no problem. I'm just thinking for the future."

He can hear Puck shift on his bed as he grabs the shirt that he had been thinking of when walking in. It's one of his button up shirts, which means that he doesn't have to slide it over his shoulders. He is easily able to move his arms enough to slide the thin and see-through white fabric up his arms and over his shoulders. He may be tooting his own horn, but this is the only article of clothing that he owns that he feels sexy in. He mainly wore it when it came to working in his dads garage or during dance practice so that he had no restrictions.

He steps out of the closet with a diminishing smile, but it doesn't mean that he's any less happy since he still has a smile on his face; he's just becoming extremely tired at this point. He grabs them hem of his shirt and pulls it in front of him when he feels the cold room touch his skin, covering his wound as well from Puck's observant eyes. He would button the shirt, but he just decides that he'll leave it as is and hold it close to his body if he feels cold.

"So . . ." Kurt pauses for a few seconds as he slowly makes his way over to his bed. "what do you want to do now? We've . . . sort of gotten our thoughts out. At least as much as we could have tonight." Kurt averts his eyes from Puck as he takes a seat next to the boy on his bed. "The . . . the only thing I honestly think that we have left are . . . to trade war stories."

Puck snorts and looks down to his lap with saddened eyes. "Hmm. I guess that's what we could call them, but . . . I honestly don't know where to go from here. I mean, what do we do now? Just wait for the school to open back up? Move on? I don't . . . I just can't do that. Not when I've lost so many friends. Now that you're my only friend left . . . I just . . ."

"I know." Kurt says softly as he reaches over and places his hand on Puck's knee. "Right now, I feel lost. I mean it's already been a week since everything happened and now . . . it's like you said. What do we do?"

Puck slowly starts nodding before he turns to Kurt with a grin. "Well how about this? All my family seems to do is watch and observe me. They don't understand, and they're giving me my space. I'm figuring that it's the same for your father. So . . . let me stay the night tonight." He chuckles as Kurt's eyebrows go up at the proposition. "You're my only friend left and I'm yours. And being completely honest, I'd rather just hang with someone that understands why . . . why I don't feel like doing anything or talking about what happened. That and we never hung out before."

"So two birds with one stone." Kurt mutters as he slowly nods. "Alright then. Yeah. I think that this could be . . . well not fun, but good for the both of us."

"Sweet." Puck grins at Kurt, a very soft one that Kurt had only seen the boy use a few times. "So I'll . . . I guess I'll just . . ."

Puck looks at a loss of exactly what he wants to say.

* * *

Burt is more than prepared to go to bed after this long week, but he knows he just has to push that desire to do so down just a bit more for the sake of his son. He needs to make sure that Kurt takes his medicine, to make sure that he's actually asleep when he goes down to check on him in a few hours. It used to be a full time job, but that ended when Kurt started high school. Now it's back. It's back because some group of psychos decided to torture a bunch of defenseless people. Now he's back to treating Kurt almost like a child. He knows Kurt won't like it, but it's in his head now that he has to.

He shifts silently in his seat, still staring at the same cup on the same kitchen counter in the exact same seat. He probably wouldn't leave his seat until that Puck kid left. He's just too worried for Kurt to even think of going upstairs to leave his kid alone. He'll probably spend the night on the couch just so he can be close to Kurt, even though he doubt's that Kurt will sleep through the night.

It's been silent in the house for a while now, even though anything can be going on in Kurt's room since it's soundproof for the most part. Burt sighs loudly and it can be heard echoing through the kitchen. He blinks his tired eyes and focuses on his blurred cup. He slowly picks the cup up before deciding to get another cup of coffee. He just needs to stay up for a bit more longer for everything to be okay.

As soon as he stands up, his head snaps in the direction of the doorway. He can hear the sound of movement coming from Kurt's room. The sound of feet moving up the stairs. He sets his cup back down and quickly moves to the side of the center island, waiting for someone to show up. His lips stretch when he sees Puck come up, happy that the boy wasn't kicked out from one of Kurt's random mood swings. Something good must have come from that.

Puck hesitates once he catches Burt's eye, but after a swift nod, he's suddenly given a quick shove and takes off. Burt's eyes turn to Kurt's as he hears the front door shut. Kurt tilts his head down and pulls his shirt tighter around his body. Burt surprised to see Kurt wearing that shirt just around the house, or even around some kid from his school, but he does look more relaxed and Burt feels relieved for that.

"Hey dad." Kurt folds his arms across his chest. "Can . . . can Noah stay the night?" He doesn't sound hopeful, but he probably doesn't know how eager Burt is to please his son now. "It's just that there's so much that . . . that's been unsaid between us. We-I . . . I thought that it'd be a good idea for us to just talk. After all, we have some common ground now, which we figured would be best for us to talk about all of our problems with each other. I mean, you know of our complicated past." Burt nods as Kurt looks up, his eyes pleading. "Dad . . . no one else understands what I went through. H-he's my only friend left and I kind of need him right now." Burt finds his eyes burning with wet tears as Kurt sheds his own, unashamed and uncaring that it's in front of his father. "I love you, and I know that you and I need some time together, but . . . can that not be tonight?"

Burt quickly shakes his head as he gulps a few times to find his voice. "Sure, kid. Of course. Yeah." Burt stops nodding and clears his throat, his hand going up to shift his hat on his head. "Is there . . . anything you guys need? Food? Or-"

"No. Thank you though, dad." Kurt smiles softly at his father. "Noah's just gone home to get some of his clothes, and neither of us really feel like eating right now."

"Well I have the fridge stocked in case you two do." Burt offers as he takes a few steps forward. "Um . . . just lock the front door and all that."

"You going to bed?" Kurt's lip quivers. "I'm sorry for keeping you up so late, dad."

"It's fine, Kurt." Burt chuckles as he places a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "I've just spent far too many nights this week awake when I should have been sleeping."  
"I'm s-"

"Kurt." Burt firms his grip on Kurt's shoulder as well as his voice. "Never apologize for this. For any of it. It wasn't your fault. It was their fault that I stayed awake . . . that I worried." Burt's voice cracks as he looks down. "Listen, Kurt, you will . . . never know how . . . how relieved I was-still am, Kurt. And as soon as everything settles down, and you and I have time to talk . . . we'll talk." Burt ends his rough speech with a smile, knowing that the smile on Kurt's face is from his bad choice of words.

"I'd love that, dad. A lot actually." Kurt nods as more tears stream down his face before he suddenly unwraps his arms from his own body and wraps them around his fathers. "I love you dad. I didn't stop thinking of you when I was in there."

Burt smiles into Kurt's hair. "Really?"

"No." Kurt chokes on a laugh. "But I know if I had stopped for a second I would have. I would have found some way to call you. Some way to . . . tell you that I loved you before I . . . if i died."

"I know you would have, kid." Burt shuts his eyes as he lets a relieved shake go through his body, a deep breath leaving him. "But thank god that you're alive. I wouldn't have been able to handle you d-d . . ." Burt stops himself from saying that word as he clings to his son. "I don't ever want you to leave me, Kurt. Move away, get married, heck you could even fly to the moon for a vacation, but don't ever leave me. Always come back to me. To you're family. To . . . home."

He can feel Kurt shake in his arms as he starts to speak. "I'll always come home, dad. Even if I go to the moon." They both share a snort at Burt's random choice of wording from his previous statement. "Don't worry dad. I'll be here for you always." Kurt lets out a shaky breath. "Always."

* * *

Sorry guys for the late chapter. I've been on vacation as well as other projects, but I hope to get back into the swing of regular updating. Let me know what you think. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**The Untitled Wound**

**Author: **GleekShip

**Spoilers:** Set During Season 1; spoilers up until episode 20, Theatricality.

**Summary: **Kurt does everything he can do to survive the final moments of a shooting at McKinley.

**Pairings: **Kurt/Puck!Friendship, maybe more.

**The Untitled Wound**

Kurt doesn't know when it had became a staring contest, but that's what it basically was now more or less. Puck had returned about half an hour ago, but they haven't done much once he joined Kurt on the bed. They weren't close friends, so they were strangers to the other in a sense. But they've also shared a similar traumatizing experience, hence the only reason that they're even in the same room. They seemed to have come to an unspoken consensus to not speak about that particular event for the rest of the night since they're both tired, but that left the, with only silence since they haven't thought of anything to talk about.

The only things that Puck had done in the past few minutes were shift and place his backpack on the floor next to his feet. He didn't even look rushed to try and talk to Kurt. He seemed to be in a peaceful state of mind, even more than Kurt would have thought possible given their history together and the one during the massacre. It was just a very quite moment that's appeasing the both of them.

Earlier, Puck had looked a bit rushed and impatient when it came to meeting Kurt, but now that they've arrange for him to stay over, he's more calm and thoughtful to everything. He seems almost like a completely different person. He even acted like one since he had a soft smile on his face as he stares fondly into the distance.

"You know what?" Puck's voice breaks Kurt's stare on the boy and he averts his gaze and pretends like he's stretching as a distraction. "It's nice just sitting here. Not having anyone asking you any questions, or how you're feeling. Or someone looking at you." His gaze flicks to Kurt's and he grins wide.

Kurt coughs and tries to look away, but he can see the humor in the boys' eyes. "I . . . I am sorry. I'm just . . . getting used to you being here. Wondering what exactly we're doing. Not what this is." He adds when Puck raises an eyebrow. "Just what to do now. I don't want it to be exactly awkward between the two of us."

Puck chuckles. "Then lets talk. Or do something. I mean I don't mind sitting here just to think in the silence, but I'm game for pretty much anything."

Kurt's mouth hangs open for a second before he snaps his mouth shut and shakes his head. "I've got nothing."

Puck snorts. "Just say it. I'm pretty sure you could ask me anything personal now and I'll answer after what we've . . . early, I mean."

Kurt sighs before glancing up to Puck. "Can you . . . will you tell me what . . . what had happened to you? You know . . . in there? You don't have to if you don't want to." Kurt rushes to add on.

It's hard to read Puck right now: is he angry or is he just contemplating? His jaw is locked in place as he stares past Kurt, but his eyes are wet and shaking as he thinks of what to do. Kurt can't even imagine what it would mean to relate his own story to Puck, something he'd thought about and would probably willingly explain to Puck if only asked. It's a war story after all. Something that many hope to put behind them, but will always be reminded with certain images or actions, or triggers of a sort that will affect them for the rest of their lives. Kurt's been assured by his doctor that his mood swings are common and similar to many that go through, so he's still waiting for his trigger. At most, he'll just be sensitive about the topic, but most likely he'll be struck with something much worst. Perhaps a bit of survivors' guilt. Maybe-

"Okay." Puck's monotone voice breaks his stream of thoughts. "I-I . . . I'll tell you."

Kurt finds himself slowly scooting back until his back is pressed against the wooden headrest of hid bed. Puck watches the movements carefully before he watches Puck create more action with his body since he had returned to the Hummel household by scooting up along the bed as well. He pushes his back against the wall, his feet hang off the bed, and now they create a 't' on Kurt's bed.

Puck sighs as he places both of his hands on his lap, his thumb twitching against the other and his index finger running along the inside of the other, contemplating on where to start. Kurt's half-tempted to treat the boy like a little child, to just hold him in his arms and tell him that's it's going to be okay; that's how bad Puck looks now at the thought of returning to that day. At this point, Kurt's pretty sure that they could tell each other anything and everything, except for that. He's pretty sure he'd rather hear Puck's most adventures and kinkiest sex stories over hearing this, but it seems more like a must at this point. This is their connection and Kurt desperately wants to strengthen and explore that, as he is sure that Puck wants to do as well, based on their talks and agreement on wanting to hang out.

"I remember the first shot going off." Kurt's eyes widen as he too remembers. "It was . . . unexpected . . . and surprising. I really wasn't thinking about what it was until everyone started moving. I mean, I was just talking to Quinn before lunch. About our daughter. About . . . her. I was thinking of the most ridiculous names so she'd smile and stop stressing. She stormed off to go to lunch. I stayed behind. I was doing another run-through for the song that I wanted to sing to her. The one that would be B- . . . our daughters name." Puck's bottom lip whimpers as the series of events return to him. "Shots. They . . . they were so loud. And there were so many of them. I left the choir room and saw her get shot. Not Quinn." He quickly adds with a shaky breath. "That's when I saw Miss Pillsbury get shot. She was shot. Just . . . just right in front of me. And I couldn't save her. I couldn't." Puck shrugs as his voice gets more and more panicked. "I couldn't save her. I just . . . she fell to the floor. And this woman, Jesus this woman, Kurt. You have no idea what she's done for me. She's been coaching me and helping me on how to be a good father. I've gotten my grades up. She's been so good to me . . . and I couldn't do anything for her. God dammit." Puck swears as he brings his hands up to cradle his head. "I ended running away with the next shot. I stopped thinking about her and only about me. I mean, what if I would have reacted quickly with the first shot. I could have saved her, I could have . . . she might not be dead. And god dammit she's freaking dead now. Why not someone like me? Someone who has nothing."

Puck is now full on crying into his hands. Some logic of his current state must still be there because he takes the few seconds to slip off his shoes, using one to slip the other off and then his socked toe to slip the other off, before he slides his legs up and holds them to his chest. He almost looks like a little child as he crosses his arms over his knees and lays his head down on him. Puck starts to say something, but it comes out muffled so he turns his head slightly.

"It hurt, but I kept going. I kept finding teachers and kids telling me to come into their classrooms for protection, but I saw what happened to Miss Pillsbury so I just continued on. Since when has a cheap wooden door stopped a gun? The guys that started shooting the place up knew we were there. They're not stupid." Puck sighs before his entire body winces, which makes Kurt lean forward slightly. "They actually found me. I swear . . . I thought I was dead. I . . . I was actually ready to die."

_Puck winces in fear as he sees three masked guys walking towards him, guns raised and their laughter filling the hallway. He wants to run, but there guns are trained on him and he's nowhere near a hallway or classroom to duck into._

"_Well, well, well." The guy in the middle chuckles, Puck noticing that this one is heavy-set and sadly, most likely someone that he's tortured, his guess to who was doing this terrible destruction. "Puckerman. This most certainly is a welcome surprise. Glad we caught you on a day that you weren't skipping. This makes this day ten times better."_

_Puck finds himself frozen in fear. His hands are half up, as if to surrender, but he's holding them at waist level as if he's going to try to talk them out of it. He's not going to do either; he's not going to do anything. His eyes are just moving from each of the students, absolutely sure that he's bullied each of these kids. They only have black ski masks covering their faces while their normal school clothes are on their bodies, the dorky clothes that Puck recognizes. He can see the suspenders on one who he conned into giving him lunch money or he'd beat the crap out of him. If he lives to survive this, he knows that he'll never be that person again. Not if it turns people into this._

_Puck suddenly finds his face roaring with pain from one side before the lockers cause pain on his other side as he slams into them. He slides to the ground with a groan, his ears full of laughter and a few screams in the background from stragglers or kids in nearby classrooms. The sound of the locker being smashed is echoing loud in his ears, blocking out everything. He looks down and is happy to see that there's no blood on the floor and with a glance to the lockers, none on there. No blood means that for the most part, he's well. He glances up just as he feels a foot go into his side. He groans as he's flipped over onto his back._

_He watches as the butt of the long gun is jammed into his side. He doesn't know how big the gun is, but they're all looking monstrous at the moment. He groans with each his as they just left above him._

"They just kept laughing at me." Puck mutters. "At one point, I remember one of them saying that they were going to keep me in pain as long as they could as payback. I caused that." Puck's voice becomes impossibly low as Kurt finds himself slowly sliding along the wall to get closer. "Just . . . knowing that I caused all of this pain. That I actually caused the shooting."

"No." Kurt rushes to say as he gives up on the subtle moving. "It's not-"

"If I . . . If _I_ hadn't been the bully that I've been . . . maybe it could have been different. Sure there were other bullies, but I was the main problem." Puck lays his head back down in his arm and whimpers slightly. "Everything that I did, or my friends did . . . we're the ones that ruined that place. We took everyone right to the pit of Hell."

Kurt finds himself unable to argue the truth anymore. He may not have caused it, but Puck heard straight from the source that he is indeed at partial blame. Kurt can see that that fact is going to weight itself heavily on Puck's mind. Kurt continues to scoot until he's at Puck's side, willing to do what he can to help the boy. Puck had, after all, already helped Kurt by helping him with his wound and being there.

"But nothing much happened after that." Puck's tone suddenly changes as he moves on. "They said that I wasn't going anywhere, so they left me for later. Shot around me a few times to make sure I couldn't move, and I couldn't. It just hurt so much." Puck sighs as he slowly brings his head up. "I don't know how long I was there, but soon enough I was being picked up on a stretcher. Somehow . . . somehow I survived. I saw you too." Puck smiles. "The only good part of my day, but there wasn't much good to begin with."

Kurt chuckles. "It was nice seeing you too."

Puck grins at Kurt before returning to stare into space. "But that was the end of everything. Before that, it was mainly running with everyone for an escape just to see gunfire in that direction. Me finding you was just luck."

"Well I'm glad that you had it on your side." Kurt sighs. "You saved me then, and you're saving me now. So please . . . please don't think that everything is your fault. They choose to ruin lives."

"So did I." Puck mutters before nodding. "But I understand your attempt. So thank you."

Kurt gives the boy a smile before he looks away, the solemn mood returning to him and the room. He can't help but feel that Puck got the worst end of everything that happened. Knowing that you sort of caused everything and then had to live in prolonged agony as they extended his torture just like he had with theirs.

Kurt hesitates only slightly before he makes his decision and starts moving his hand. He can see Puck watching his hand, but not stopping it as he reaches over and places his hand on Puck's arm. Puck stills his body under Kurt's touch, only the occasional shake running through under Kurt's skin. It only takes a few seconds before Puck starts fidgeting under Kurt's touch.

"I'm sorry." Puck quickly apologizes when Kurt frowns, confused. "I'm . . . please don't take offense to this, because I don't mean it, but . . . I'm not used . . . to being touched by a guy."

"Oh." Kurt slowly nods, not offended in the slightest because Puck was trying to be honest and genuine in his words. "That's fine. Yeah. I completely understand.

Kurt goes to remove his hand, but Puck quickly frees his own hand to take Kurt's hand. "Don't . . . please don't. I said I'm not used to it, not that I don't mind it. I'm usually only touched by girls, or the occasional high five with the guys. This is new . . . but not unwanted." Puck gives Kurt a soft smile. "But it's still weird though, right? It can't just be me that thinks holding hands-" He glances down at their intertwined hands with a nod. "Is . . . off, for the lack of a better word."

Kurt sighs. "It is . . . different, but as you said, I'm not opposed to it. To me . . . this is comfort. This is the only way that I can show comfort, or a level of sympathy." Kurt squeezes Puck's hand. "But I do think it's all a bit gay."

Puck snorts and ends up laughing, bowing his head down to rest it on their hands for the laughter to run through him. Kurt finds himself grinning uncontrollably like an idiot, unsure if his mind had unconsciously made the decision just to ease the tension for the both of them. He falls over onto Puck, the light and breezy laughter ripping through him and making his body shake. It's a relief to be able to laugh even though they've been talking about so many uncomfortable topics. Again, though, Noah Puckerman continues to surprise him with each turn at every angle.

Puck sighs as the last of the laughter leave his mouth, but the smile he had with the laugh is still on his face as he stares down softly at their intertwined hands, the pale ones against tan ones. "So . . . where do we stand now that . . . well we've talked about how this is gay, but neither of us care." They both chuckle and Puck continues on. "And we've talked about . . . school, to say the least. I do think that's the extent of our knowledge of each other. Something gay and something violent."

Kurt frowns, the comparison that Puck's made not sitting well with him. It seems a bit too much to just designate Kurt to the gay category and Puck to the violent category. For one, he knows that Puck is more than just a violent guy. Mercedes and Quinn had gotten closer and he had shared a sleep-over or two; just enough to know that the boy is actually a giant Teddy bear outside of the confines and expectations of high school.

Kurt sighs before addressing the obvious comment towards him. "I'm more than just some gay guy. You can't just categorize me there just because I am."

"I'm not . . ." Puck groans and lets out a shaky breath. "I was just trying to make a connection to what we were talking about. Trust me; I know that you're not just some gay guy. You seem to forget that a lot of your sleep-overs with Quinn happened in my house. I heard quite a bit."

Kurt's eyes widen slightly. "You mean-"

Kurt stops talking when Puck chuckles. "I've heard some things. And those some things aren't leaving my lips. I know how to keep a secret."

Kurt purses his lips before nodding and moving onto the second comment. "Then you should also know that you're not just a violent guy. I know you say it was to fit in with the context of everything, and your guilt-" Puck goes to look down, but Kurt gives him a quick warm smile. "But words like that always have some underlying tone, so I know that it does for you as well."

Puck looks away and Kurt can see the boys bottom lip quiver, the boys in-securities coming to light without him wanting it too. It keeps surprising, and then upsetting, the both of them when with each new step they take into conversation; it gets harder and a bit more frustrating. Kurt finds himself leaning as close to Puck as possible, using his free arm to try and hold onto Puck. Puck tenses under Kurt's sudden touch, but Kurt holds on and hides his face into Puck's arm.

"I'm sorry, Noah. I need to stop being so damn insensitive." He lets out a shaky breath as Puck relaxes slightly. "I need to start thinking before I speak. It's a continuous problem that I am trying to work on."

"It's fine, Kurt." Puck smiles before nudging his shoulder against Kurt's gently. "You did more or less read the underlying tones of my words, which is one thing that I will always have to work on."

Kurt goes to say something, but he hears the sound of his door opening, the rough and tired breath of his father quickly following. He watches as his father descend, his own thoughts barely on his own actions. Before, he would have thought to remove his hand from Puck's, and he'd expect the boy to do the same thing, but he tightens his grip on the boys hand as does Puck. He's sharing a connection with Puck that he hasn't with anyone before, not even Mercedes. They would have talks and stuff, but the deepest conversation they had was about her weight and what to do, nothing that ever pertained or affected him greatly. He's breaking emotional and physical boundaries that he didn't think he'd ever break until he would leave this town far behind.

"Kurt." Kurt hears his dad struggle to keep his voice quiet so he couldn't hear the sleep in the voice. "Puck." Burt acknowledges Puck with a nod of his head as Kurt notices the plate of sandwiches that his dad is carrying with him as he steps off the staircase.

Burt averts his eyes from the two boys on Kurt's bed, although his eyes to glance at their combined hands on Puck's knees, and makes his way over to the small table that Kurt has at his bedside. Kurt finds himself and Puck leaning closer to each other, their sides pressed together, as they wait for whatever Kurt's father is going to say. Burt doesn't look overly impressed with how close Kurt and his former bully are with each other, but it's hard to tell what exactly his thoughts are with his face being turned away to not look at the duo.

Burt sets the plate down on the table before he turns slowly, unsure of himself and his next words. He glances towards the bed, the empty part as if he wants to take a seat, but he trains his eyes on Kurt and Puck instead. He takes a few steps along the bed so he can be closer to them, to be direct with them. Kurt can feel Puck tense up next to him, but he offers a comforting nudge and a tight hand squeeze in support.

"Um." Burt reaches up to rub the back of his bald head nervously, his baseball hat upstairs and retired for the night. "I figured you two would be up late, with everything going on. So I made you two a few sandwiches when you want one." His gaze finally leaves the floor so he can look at Kurt. "I'm going to turn in for the night."

Kurt slowly nods, knowing that his father's been awake far too long for someone of his aging body. "If you're sure."

"I am." Burt nods as he lets out a shaky breath. "But be sure to take your medicine before you turn in for the night too."

"I'll remind him, Mr. Hummel." Puck chimes in milliseconds before Kurt goes to respond himself. "Don't worry, sir."

Burt purses his lips and gives Puck a short nod. "Thanks, kid." He turns his eyes to Kurt, his gaze hesitantly meeting his sons. "I love you, Kurt."

"Love you too, dad." Kurt gives him a half-grin. "Night."

Burt's body moves forward suddenly, but he stops himself from giving Kurt that final hug of the night, which both boys can obviously see he wants to. Burt's bottom lip shakes slightly before he turns his gaze and breaks their line of sight with each other. Kurt quickly glances down and focuses on his and Puck's combined hands, only wanting to look back towards his dad when he hears the footsteps stop on the staircase.

Once the door to his room shuts, Kurt lets out a shaky breath and a tiny gasp. He can't help but feel that this is how it's going to be between him and his father so much more time to come. Before everything happened, he and his dad would have small talks about random stuff before they moved on to their daily lives, but it's so different now. Kurt can see that they'll be having awkward conversations, like the one that just happened, until so much emotion builds up that they'll explode in tears and fall onto each other, like it had been a while ago. Honestly, it's never been for awkward between him and his father, no even when his mother had died, or even when he had came out to him. Kurt reaches up with his free hand to quickly catch a tear in the corner of his eye before it's at risk of dropping and being noticed.

He turns to Puck and plays drying the tear off by fiddling with his hear, but Puck seems to know what Kurt was doing since he gives Kurt a soft smile. "So . . . are you hungry?" He nods his head in the direction of the plate.

Puck hesitates before shaking his head. "I think I'll wait until before we sleep. I might actually sleep if I eat then."

Kurt nods, sadly understanding Puck's predicament. "That's . . . that's perfectly fine. I really don't think I can stomach any food regardless because of my . . . " Kurt motions towards his body with his free hand towards his body as he takes the second to think of the right word. "Emotional exhaustion." He decides on as he lets out a shaky breath. "I've never been good under pressure or having no energy for anything."

"I'm the same way." Puck mutters as he lets his head fall back to settle against the wall. "Especially when it came to tests or football games. For the week before, I was a nervous wreck. I didn't eat, didn't sleep. I just studied and worked out, studied and worked out. This year it was worse because thanks to you, because we actually made it to the championships to play. That was a bad month." Puck's voice becomes low as Kurt strains to listen. "I only snapped out of it because I needed to stay strong for Quinn and . . . and Beth." Puck struggles to say the name aloud to someone, even if he already mentioned it to Kurt. "That's probably why we didn't do so well when we got there. I should have been focusing on the game, but oh well. I chose the better option, even if no one else understood why."

Puck sighs before he slowly starts sliding his knees out from his chest, spreading them out over the bed and next to Kurt. He lowers his and Kurt's hand down to rest between their two legs, holding Kurt's hand against his. Kurt finds himself pouting as he realizes all of the stuff that Puck's been going through and he wonders how far Puck had pushed himself, this close to Quinn's due date, on top of the shooting. It's completely and unhealthy and hurts him how no one ever noticed, not even his friends. He had thought it was weird that Puck had stopped singing in the glee club and had stopped throwing him in the dumpsters; the latter he assumed was because of a mutual interest in the glee club. It doesn't make sense because Rachel had told him that Puck had told her that he likes singing, and performing, he just doesn't get much of a chance to shine.

Kurt opens his mouth, but lets it hang there for a few seconds as he tries to decide on the best direction for the night to go. "I-"

"I'm gonna go ahead and go change." Puck cuts Kurt off, oblivious of Kurt even wanting to talk since his eyes are looking at the bathroom before he brings them back to Kurt. "Just in case I crash or something. Sleeping in jeans is a major pain in the morning."

Kurt nods, not upset with the interruption, and smiles knowingly. "Try wearing skinny jeans to bed. You'll wake up with marks in places where marks should never be."

Puck snorts before giving Kurt another one of his few genuine smiles. "I bet."

They share another glance and smile before Puck slowly, and hesitantly, breaks his hold with Kurt's hand before sliding forward to the edge of the bed to lean down and grab his bad from the floor. Kurt returns his hand to his lap and watches as Puck digs through his bag. Kurt is slightly upset at the slight change of mood in the room, but the mood doesn't feel negative in any sort so he accepts it as a good change. Puck sighs as he stands up, cracking his back and various limbs as he goes. He looks back to Kurt as he bites his lip before he holds up his clothes before making his awkward way to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Kurt chuckles at the boy before he looks around his bed, suddenly feeling very alone even though Puck is only fifteen feet away and his blanket-buddies are surrounding him. He's most likely going to end up pushing his blankets off the bed in the middle of the night, for his restless sleeping and to prevent Puck from overheating, but he sort of likes them where they are now. He finds himself falling over into the pile of blankets, his eyes shutting as he feels the rush of air hit his face.

He moans softly into the blankets, feeling much more relaxed now that he had early when he had let all of his emotions stay buried inside of himself. He can hear Puck turn on the sink in the bathroom and finds himself even more relieved because Puck's washing off his face. So he's either nervous or cleaning himself off quickly, to which he hopes for the former because then he won't be the only one. Having someone else share the same characteristics and qualities, as well as experiences, is making him feel much safer and happier.

He lifts his head and his half-closed eyes as he hears the bathroom door open. Puck comes out in the clothes Kurt had expected: basketball shorts and a white t-shirt. He knows that Puck probably sleeps with his shirt off for the most part, but he appreciates the effort of the boy making it comfortable for the both of them without the exposed skin.

Puck grins at him as he makes his way back over to the bed. "Seeing as you're about to pass out, I'd go change."

Kurt sighs and nods before he slowly sits up.

* * *

Sorry for the late update, guys. Life has been busy, but I hope to have another one up soon. Also, this story is very slow in terms of updating and the in-story progress. Several chapters, as you may have noticed, will be dedicated to the same couple of hours or so. So let me know your thoughts of the story. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**The Untitled Wound**

**Author: **GleekShip

**Spoilers:** Set During Season 1; spoilers up until episode 20, Theatricality.

**Summary: **Kurt does everything he can do to survive the final moments of a shooting at McKinley.

**Pairings: **Kurt/Puck!Friendship, maybe more.

**The Untitled Wound**

Kurt can slowly feel life returning to his body, his bladder suddenly filling and his body filling with ache. Through the thin layer of skin that he's keeping over his eyes, he can see that his room is full of dim light, coming from the small window of his room. He used to love waking up feeling the warm light on his skin as he lays spread out on his bed. It made him feel like he was lying in the middle of a field of flowers, the light making it seem so peaceful in the spring breeze. It was a moment of peace that he always fantasized about, just a moment of having no worries, no anxieties.

It feels like it's the most he's slept in days, which is true. He had only dozed off for an hour or two a few times a day when he was at the hospital, and not much before everything just because of stress. He had doubted that sleep would find him, but it did . . . somehow.

He lets his eyes stay shut as he slowly stretches his body out, letting his mind stay in a hazy mist as usual so he doesn't have to worry about anything until he opens them. His mountain of pillows around him creates a nice soft island around him and his entire body is at peace, feeling no pain. It's the way he likes his mornings to go.

He goes to stretch his arms out now and stops when his hand runs into something solid. He glances over and the memories of the night before returns to him: Puck coming over, the crying, the closeness that he's surprised that two people like them would ever share. The sleeping boy next to him looks so innocent as he lies sleeping, his head turned on the pillow in Kurt's direction. He ordinarily wouldn't apply innocent to Puck, but that's what it seems like with the boys face void of any emotion and his lips parted slightly as he breathes in the morning air. Kurt smiles when he hears the light snore coming from Puck, adding even more to the innocent fact. It's one face that he never thought he'd see.

Kurt turns his head to look back at the ceiling before he nods and sits up. He realizes that with Puck being there, their sudden connection, is the main cause of this. He's extremely grateful. He glances down at the boy as he remembers that Puck had hardly slept this week even though he had been home the entire time. Maybe Puck needed this release of sorts just as much as Puck. To think that talking about this experience with someone else that had went through it would leading to many moments of peace, it was unfathomable to wrap his mind around, or at least it was because it's so early in the morning.

He puts his arms above him and leans forward to stretch his body out, pushing his blanket off of him with the movement. He finds himself yawning again, smiling into the yawn because he could easily fall back to sleep. He doesn't have anything planned for that day besides memory lane and pop-a-pill hill, but he feels too energized to let that be his only plans.

He glances over as he scrambles to his knees, needing a way off the bed since Puck had taken the outer edge to the bed and he's now trapped against the wall. He struggles to his feet, thanking his dad for getting one of the best beds he could afford so it won't bounce and will try to distribute weight. He grabs the corner of his bed, the post that extends high up in its wooden fashion, to help hold himself before he looks down to watch where his feet go. Now normally, as he's fantasized, he would freak out, giggle, or go completely still at the sight of seeing someone else's morning wood in his bed, but he doesn't feel that when he sees Puck. He's just glad that he's functioning the same as other boys when he gets his own. He makes a mental note to not mention seeing Puck's morning state to the boy before he hopes off the bed quickly, his feet landing gracefully in the soft carpet with a thud.

His room is still in the same melancholy tone of last night, at least to him. He and Puck had managed to only swallow down half a sandwich each from the bunch that his dad had brought down, so the plate remains with the hard bread on his nightstand. Puck's clothes from the night before are hanging out of his bag, half-hazardly put away before he had jumped into the bed and curled up into a ball so Kurt could get off to change. He had been in the same position when Kurt had returned from changing last night, only stretching out next to Kurt once Kurt returned to his position by the wall. It wasn't uncomfortable last night either, just a quiet and growing connection between the two as they finally drifted off into their forgotten dreams.

Kurt pops his toes as he walks over to the bathroom, ready to relieve himself in the morning. Part of him wants to give Puck a break, but the other half wants to ask the boy to change is wound again so he doesn't have to. He smiles to himself before he hops into his dim bathroom and shuts the door.

* * *

It doesn't take long for Puck to wake up once Kurt returns to the bed, the boy stirring for several minutes in his body before his eye lid even twitches to open. When he does, he finds glasz eyes staring at brown ones, nothing but comfort and support coming with them. Puck waits for second to be used to being awake in this new environment before he tightens the blanket around his body and rolls to his side, his eyes shutting again.

"What time is it?" Puck's voice is thick with sleep as he asks.

"Almost ten." Kurt answers from his Indian-style position against the wall, his own part of the blanket over his lap to protect him from the cool temperature of the room.

Puck groans softly. "God. I haven't been this awake this early on a weekend in ages. Why?" Puck's voice becomes more of a whine by the end of his sentence, making Kurt chuckle.

"Well you did sleep for a long time. We both did, in fact. I thought we went to bed early in the morning, but it was only a little after midnight. So ten hours. Ten long hours, which is a lot considering that you or I haven't been sleeping much this past week."

Puck nods slightly, snuggling even more into his share of the pillows. "So besides from a decent amount of sleep, how are you doing? Things got . . . things got kind of intense last night."

"They did." Kurt slowly nods as he stretches his feet out for comfort, only stopping them a few inches from touching Puck. "But I'm good. At least I'm doing a lot better. It felt nice, so _relieving_ to talk this out with . . . with someone who understands. No one else really understands . . . they're not like you." Kurt sighs and looks to his lap. "Today's the first day I can actually see myself moving beyond this . . . this sadness."

He looks back to Puck, finding the boys eyes open and staring at Kurt, a glint in the corner of them. He gives Kurt a small smile before he sits up, letting the blankets fall to pool around his waist. He nudges Kurt's legs as he starts moving, waiting for Kurt to get with the idea. Kurt gulps before he shuffles to his left slightly so Puck can scoot to the wall next to him, settling quickly and quietly into a comfortable position next to Kurt. Unlike the night before, it is Puck's turn to take Kurt's hand, seeming to remember that this was a form of comfort between the two of them: the contact.

"You passed through the five stages pretty quickly." Puck says as he sets their hands on his lap, smiling.

Kurt shrugs, a small smile on his own face. "Everyone moves at different paces. Plus, I really didn't have much to be angry about. This whole experience has been nothing but sad. So that's what? Stage four." He looks to Puck, who slowly nods after thinking about it for a second. "I guess the first three stages happened while I was in that coma thing." Kurt looks down to his lap. "I probably would have been in the anger stage for a while if I would have come straight home after everything. What about you?" He looks to Puck. "Did you skip any stages?"

Puck sighs before shaking his head. "No, but they went pretty quick. I know I was angry for a good chunk of these past couple of weeks. Denial was only for a few days, but ma and Sarah helped me through that." Puck lets out a shaky breath. "I didn't tell you at first because I was just happy that you were alive, but you helped me through that anger with that call. As soon as you called, it broke. Before that, I was punching walls and yelling at everyone. My family stopped trying to help and just said that they'd be there if I wanted to talk, but I didn't want that. I just wanted to . . . hurt something." He looks to Kurt. "After that call, I started thinking about you and where we stood before all of this. I was prepared to . . . try and get through this together."

"Stage three." Kurt slowly nods. "I think you and I were in a mixture of three and four at first last night before four set in. There was a lot of back and forth between those two last night."

Puck nods before he lets his head roll back to rest on the wall. "I think I'm on stage five now, like you. It . . . I know it happened and, well I'm not exactly fine with it, but . . . yeah. Does that make sense?"

"It does." Kurt nods before he lets his head fall to the side and land on Puck's shoulder. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah." Puck's voice is soft as he squeezes Kurt's hand to amplify his answer through touch as well. "So now that we've . . . accepted all of this, in two weeks I might add. Kind of impressive."

Kurt chuckles. "I guess it does seem so."

Puck sighs. "Anyways . . . where do we go from here? What do we do?"

"Well . . ." Kurt stops, unsure of how to answer, and raises his head. "I don't know. We can't really move on with life because the school's not even open, or at least it's not as far as I know. An alternative one." He adds when Puck looks confused. "We have to continue our education, but we need to wait on that one." Kurt hesitates before shrugging. "I guess this is like Spring Break or something. Just a mini-vacation."

"To do what?" Puck groans. "I'd usually hang with friends or something like that. That doesn't seem very possible now. I . . . I can't treat this like a normal vacation." Puck's voice starts shaking. "I've accepted it, but I freaking hate it. I hate that we're the only ones of our group of friends to have survived. Why us? Why me? Anyone in that room is a better person than I am and-"

"Shut up!" Kurt's stern voice makes Puck stop, his head and wide eyes looking to Kurt, the boy who is desperately trying to convey hope with his look as well as his words. "Please don't slide back into these thoughts. Why you? Why not you? You stepped up and became a very mature man for someone of our age when you found out that Quinn was pregnant. Everyone, and I don't speak ill of the dead lightly, had just as many flaws as you. You-" Kurt leans forward as Puck turns away. "You deserve to live. You deserve . . . to show people that you have changed. And . . . I need you . . . Noah. We may not have been the best of friends before everything, but we are now. And I will not let you talk yourself down. You have value."

Kurt lets his last pleading word ring out into the room, his morning energy and comfort suddenly fleeing from him. As much as he'd love to move on and pretend that he hasn't been affected, he knows he can't. He'll have to be Puck's rock to reality just like he's sure that puck will be to him. Puck lifts his teary eyes to meet Kurt's gaze, his bottom lip shaking.

"I-I'm . . . I'm sorry. I shouldn't . . . I can't-"

"It's fine, Noah." Kurt gives him a comforting smile. "I'm sure I'll have moments like this too, and I know I can count on you to help me as well." Puck quickly nods and Kurt smiles wider. "Let's just restart our morning. I can go get us some breakfast."

Puck shakes his head. "I want to come with you."

Kurt nods before he lets out a shaky breath. "Come on, but be quiet. I haven't heard dad yet so I don't know if he's awake or not."

Puck nods before the two of them slide off the bed, neither of them knowing who let go first. The connection that was made between the two of them seemed be slightly dimmer now that their physical connection is diminished, but it's still there. Kurt doesn't want to seem like some clingy and depressed teenager, so he lets his hands drop to his side as he pads across the room.

"Oh." Kurt suddenly stops. "Do you need to go to the bathroom or anything? Sorry for forgetting my manners. I can't just drag you up because I'm hungry."

"It's fine, Kurt." Puck chuckles, his chuckle thick with sleep still. "I'll hold it in until I have some food in me."

Kurt smiles before he turns around and starts up the stairs. His mind goes back to Finn, the boy who had only lived with them for a few days and the habits that had left and impact on Kurt's mind. The only comparison between Finn and Puck was that they hated mornings, but Puck seemed wide awake once he sat up, blood rushing through his body. He always thought that Puck and Finn were two similar Neanderthal hot-blooded and hot bodied teenagers, asides from knowing the Finn was a virgin while Puck played the field, but there were so different. He knows better than to just lump a bunch of people into the same group anymore, no one actually being the same once you get to know them.

The first floor is nice and quiet once Kurt opens the door to peer out, the sunlight coming through the windows and bathing the hallway and adjacent rooms with an orange tint. Nothing but the sounds of their breaths and twittering birds from outside break the silence. He can't hear the echoes of his dad in the garage, so he's probably not even out of bed yet; not even to start fixing the old car in the garage. Kurt feels some guilt sting in his chest knowing that he's the reason his dad's been sleep deprived. That man could sleep for years and still not be rested after all of the drama from this week. He knows his father would rather Kurt be even the slightest bit of happy than get any sleep, but it still doesn't stop the guilt from seeping further into him. He promises that he'll try and make these next few years as a son the easiest as possible.

Puck jerks on hands softly to break the boy out of his frozen state of thoughts to question him with his own brown eyes before he nods to the kitchen. Kurt quickly smiles before he moves quickly forward so he can walk in front of Puck, not wanting to the boy to see his hurting and guilt-filled eyes. It's not guilt exactly, but he doesn't know how else to explain it. He just wants his father to not worry and have an easier time with this situation that he currently is. He's tempted to look to his left, wanting to question Puck about if he feels the same way about his mother or god forbid his sister . . . but he doesn't.

He forces himself to keep quiet as they pad into the kitchen, the cool linoleum that had been laid down decades previously feel nice against their warm feet. The bright kitchen is lit with solar energy and it makes Kurt feel much calmer. Memories flood back to him of a time when things were simpler, to a time where his mother was alive. He'd always arrive to the kitchen to find smells of her cooking a large breakfast, but . . . he doesn't smell that today.

He lets go of Puck's hand in favor of walking across the room to flip some of the burners of the stove on. "Go ahead and take a seat. Get comfortable too. I plan on making a big breakfast."

Instead of hearing a chair scratch lightly over the floor being pulled back, but he hears movement before Puck is suddenly propped up against the counter next to him, his eyes roaming the burners before he reaches over to turn one down a hair. "How about I help you cook? I'm actually not that bad." He adds with a smile when Kurt raises a daring eyebrow. "And we'll cut down the prep time in half."

"Prep time?" Kurt chuckles before he reaches up to open the nearby cabinets. "That's a pretty fancy phrase for a football player."

"Well this football player is a pretty fancy cook who can and just might cook circles around you." Puck retorts with a grin as Kurt pulls down a box of pancake mix. "Now what all are we making? Scratch that. What do you have so I can make the best breakfast from what you have?"

Kurt rolls his eyes and shoves the box of pancake mix into Puck's chest, the lid popping open and pancake mix poofing out. "Stop being cocky. It doesn't suit you and it's not cute."

"I'm always cocky." Puck grins as Kurt pads over to the refrigerator, shaking his head all the while. "And I am absolutely adorable. See."

Kurt turns at Puck's words to find the boy cupping his own face, the goofiest smile on his lips and his eyes fluttering as he looks to Kurt.

Kurt snorts and returns to the cold box for a carton of eggs and the jug of milk. "You're more along the lines of dorky, so we'll settle for adorkable." Kurt's eyes glance up and down Puck's laughing body as he makes to set his new ingredients on the island in the middle of the kitchen. "Even if I don't see half of it."

Puck snorts before he reaches out for the milk and drags it towards himself. "Just watch the master in his element."

Kurt rolls his eyes and let's himself settle into the quiet work environment that the two had created, each only being vocal when it came to asking a question about where something is or how the other liked it cooked. Kurt was happy that they had both found this happy place together in the kitchen. They could talk about this recently learned similarity instead of regressing back into their deep and serious talks. This fresh of breath air is both exciting, but also a great contribution to Kurt's memory sense of what it feels like to be happy.

Kurt shuts his eyes as he beats the eggs, his fingers dancing gracefully along the containers of various herbs and spices that they own, knowing which ones to choose to add into the mix to make sure that everything is cooked into the eggs. He can imagine his mother being there, a knowing smile on her face as she knows which spices Kurt would choose first. Kurt loves adding a picture of garlic and paprika into the mix, the eggs getting that extra burst of flavor with each taste. The only downside is the lack of fresh bell-peppers in the house. His dad hasn't went shopping this week most likely so the freshest ones they had were probably rotting away, something that he'd have to check on later.

Kurt places the egg beater down and makes his way back over to the stove, grabbing a small skillet from the hanging rack, the one that's above the island, as he goes. He spots Puck eyeing him, impressed as he nods at Kurt's fluid movements through the kitchen before he reaches for his own skillet and places it down at the same time as Kurt. Both boys glance at each other and the challenge is accepted as both adjust their burners and start cooking.

In between their main battle, they had battled between the cuttings of fruits and who could start the sausage links on the third burner. They never really had any problems communicating as they dances around each other and the kitchen, never running into anything or the other one. Kurt finds himself being much happier than he has been in a long time, which had started much longer than the whole shooting incident. His life was too busy for him to find a glimpse of happiness. He had felt false hope, a boost of adrenaline or confidence, but not happiness. Not even when it came to him and his petty crushes. Crushes that he had wisely learned and accepted as things that would never come to fruition.

His whole high school experience had been more of a joke than anything now that he's had the time to think, and mope, about it. I always thought that he was better than the people of Lima, but then he'd bring himself down to their levels by judging others or trying to one up them on things. That's what they were doing with him and he found himself doing the same. In all honesty, he's realized that he's just an average Lima Citizen. While he's likely to achieve more with his dreams and move past the average stage, that's just where he is at the moment. He doesn't see himself as anything more, but he does see himself doing more."

"Done." Puck smiles with pride as he turns off his burner and shows Kurt a glass plate stacked up high with thin pancakes. "Eat it."

Kurt sticks his tongue out as he scoops the last of the eggs out of one skillet into a large plate and moves to do the same with the sausages. "I was cooking two separate things. I win. And-" He starts when Puck opens his mouth. "You were at the stove first. That's a penalty."

Puck frowns. "Who said this was a race?"

Kurt chuckles at the low tone that Puck had used and reaches up with his free hand to touch Puck's shoulder gently. "It's okay. Not everyone can keep up with a fabulous person. Not even an adorkable one." He ends with reaching up to tap Puck's nose.

Kurt freezes internally at the unusual action, but quickly forgets it when Puck doesn't respond in any negative way, but grins. "We'll see about that next time." Puck challenges."  
"Deal." Kurt chuckles before he turns off the last of the burners and looks to the counter where he and Puck had taken the three largest plates that the Hummel household had to use to hold that copious amounts of food made. "So what do you usually eat with your breakfast? My dad eats his pancakes with brown sugar so we have some of that if you do too."

"Sweet." Puck grins. "Brown sugar and fruit make pancakes taste real rich."

Kurt crinkles his nose. "No thank you. The sugar cakes the dough and syrup to where it's too thick."  
Puck scoffs. "I don't think you know your food."

"Well I don't think you know your-"

"Kurt."

Kurt snaps his head from an equally surprised Puck to find his father standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his eyes moving slowly between the two previously smiling boys. Burt himself looks much better than he had last night after getting a good amount of hours asleep. The bags were still under his eyes, but not as dark. The older man lets out a sigh as he settles against the doorway.

"Sorry if we were loud, dad." Kurt quickly apologizes as he turns around to transfer the plates from the counter to the island where they usually sit for breakfast. "We were just having some fun."

"Then by all means don't let me stop you." Burt smiles, unbelievably happy that his son is laughing and smiling and being carefree for the time being. "I'll just go check for the paper."

"And I'll set your plate." Kurt smiles to his father as the older man bows out.

Kurt lets out a shaky breath and busies himself to setting his father's plate, trying not to blame him on the sudden change of atmosphere that seems to be happening. It's not that his father had taken away the happiness, but he had disrupted the connection and the feeling of 'it's-just-us-and-that's-all-we-need" kind of moment that he had felt during it. Kurt pushes the plate onto the table and lets out a shaky breath, seeming much more stressed that he was making himself worry about what would eventually turn out to be nothing.

"Hey." Puck reaches out and takes Kurt's balled up fist from the island, Kurt being angry surprising both of them, and massages the muscles in both of his hands. "I'm kind of picking up on what you're feeling, but you can't blame him. If it wasn't him, then it'd have to be me leaving today." Puck jerks on Kurt's hand until Kurt turns to face him. "Remember, we're going to try and move on. You-" He moves their hands to touch Kurt's chest. "And me-" He brings them to his own chest where he holds them. "We're pretty much the only two that either of us has that can relate. So we work through this together. Okay?"

Kurt sighs and nods before he leans forward and lets his head rest against Puck's shoulder. "Sorry. I honestly don't know what came over me."

"Maybe you're a bit possessive of me." Puck teases, grinning wide when Kurt pulls back.

"Shut up." Kurt mutters before he hits Puck in the chest and grabs his own plate. "Get the brown sugar out of the third cabinet." Kurt slides the bowl of fruit to the center of the island. "And here's your nasty extra mix to your meal."

Puck sticks his tongue out before he goes on to make his own plate, unashamed that he's loading it up much more than he would if he was a first time guest anywhere else. Kurt watches him for a second before he goes for the slim pancakes first, only getting a few instead of many because he saw Puck add some vanilla extract and a few dashes of sugar into the mix; most likely delicious, but not exactly his cup of pancake.

"How long have you guys been up?" Burt asks as he returns to the kitchen with the newspaper in one hand, bringing Kurt from his recent memories.

"Almost an hour." Kurt asks after a glance to the kitchen clock. "We've only been up here for about 20 to cook. All of your favorites." Kurt adds as he pushes the plate made for his father to the seat where the man had decided on sitting.

"You didn't have to." Burt mutters, but a happy gleam is very apparent in his eyes.

"We both were hungry, Mr. Hummel." Puck smiles as he sits down on the opposite of the older Hummel. "I hope you don't mind me digging into your brown sugar stash? I love it on my pancakes."

Burt roars with laughter. "Finally. A boy that knows how to eat."

Puck and Burt both laugh at that while Kurt rolls his eyes at the jibe. He sticks his tongue out at them and sends them into another fit. Kurt chuckles under his breath before reaching across the table to pick up the newspaper that his dad had set down. He slides his plate to the side so the newspaper in front of him. He uses one hand to spread the paper out over the empty side of the family-sized table and uses his other to feed himself with, accidentally biting his finger at one point and cursing internally for his mindlessness.

He's pretty sure his reaction sends the temperature of the room plummeting down when his eyes spot the front page news: The Massacre of McKinley High. He knows he should have expected it, but this morning for the most part had felt normal enough that it was like that day never existed. The article only gets worse with a long list on the side of the paper that listed funeral dates for loved ones, each date and time almost on top of the other. He had been told that many people had participated in a group funeral for the families that were close to each other in this small town. Out of the 40 percent that had died, about half had already been buried. The school only had about 400 to begin with, about 60 have had individual funerals while so many more had had group ones to be with their nearest and dearest. Kurt had been unfortunately told, although he had kept this from his mind until now, that some of the glee kids had already been buried as well.

Kurt hears his voice and looks up to find both Puck and his father looking at them, burning questions and hesitating actions in their bodies. Kurt shakes his head before he folds the paper up and hands over the part that he's concerned with the most, the names face up when the paper hits the table.

"So . . . who's ready for a funeral?" Kurt asks slowly as he feels himself conflicted already with his own question.

* * *

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. It took me a while to figure out everything that would go into this, but I'm satisfied. Please, let me know what you think. :)


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